


My hands on your hearts

by Neverask



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, Disability, Friends to Lovers, Heats, High Heels, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Love, Some characters of other fandoms may appear cuz I'm to lazy to create OC's everytime., Use of Multiple Languages, mature scenes, no beta read I die like a proud and stupid human, sibling rivlary, sooo much music, tentative of humor., there's a fucking story behind it too but telling the plot in the tags is not what I'm planning, tuned to people, very cynical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 87,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21698965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neverask/pseuds/Neverask
Summary: A moment passed.“Spiderdwarf, Hood?” Tim’s voice was curious.“Metahuman, Timmers. Bendy, superstrong metahuman with webs. And freakin’ tiny.”
Relationships: Damian Wayne/Original Character(s), Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Everyone! Missed me?  
> -Nobody missed you, jackass, you’re new here. Stop trying to fit in.  
> Anyhow, I scrolled for days and days, searching for a fanfiction that would respond to my needs, but…  
> -You didn’t find anything, boohoo princess, so out of anger you made your own. And now you want people to read it.  
> Wade. Wiston. Wilson. Stop interrupting me !!! What are you even doing here? You’re not part of the story! (Not that I know of….)  
> -Oh I beg to differ, Lady. You use some of my Spideypie’s traits and you want me to stand down and watch you do whatever ya want without sticking my nose into your business? You clearly didn’t create me.  
> No I didn’t. But thanks for the spoilers, really. Now they know what to expect. Happy?  
> -No.  
> Alright, what happened? Did something crawled up your ass and died?  
> -My ass is a paradise; people would pay to live in it.  
> You had a fight with Spiderman.  
> -No…  
> Apologise, Wade. Before he comes back and webs you up to leave you to rot. The smell would be awful, even for you. Wade?  
> …- Deapool has left the discussion, please leave a message after the bip- 
> 
> Teaser: 
> 
> "There’s a new player in town. A thigh clad one."

It was a Thursday night – or Friday morning, depending on your time perception- when Dick felt it the first time. The feelings of arms around him, a cold embrace, like running water, cooling him down. The feeling in itself was welcomed, because Dick was burning that night, still feeling the aftermath of the adrenaline and the various bruises due to punches and kicks he received during patrol (along with a grazed arm, because ‘ _’you are incapable of looking around without being distracted, Grayson.’’_ Was it really his fault? I mean, one of the drug dealers they took down pulled out a giant dildo JUST to distract him – which in fact it did, because he didn’t know THAT size existed and he had to know where the thug bought it. The dealer only responded by a ‘’look it up on the internet! You’re disgusting!’’ before aiming at him and shooting WITH the dildo…. Someone had it modified, that was for sure). The cold soothed his pulled muscles, shutting down the pain emanating from his body, and allowed him to put his mind at rest, falling finally asleep.

It kept nagging him, before his brain cells shut down, that no matter how he moved, the phantom sensation of arms wouldn’t budge and stayed exactly where it was, without shifting with his position. Was he on his side or stomach, the arms snaked their way on his torso, crossing on his front, close to his sternum. The hands were wide open with the fingers crossed on his stomach. He felt the muscles of the upper arms resting on his ribs, contracting and shifting alongside his every movement. A welcomed pressure was exerted where the arms were, but along with it came an unnatural sensation. With the arms came nothing. No weight on his back, no sensation of space filled behind him. No sign of life, no breathing on his neck. Nothing was attached to those sneaky arms, which made him think of the hand in the Addams’s Family, freaking him a little bit out and confusing his inner octopus by the fact that he couldn’t wrap himself around the person whom the arms belonged, to return the favour. But before he could think about it further, his energy levels dropped one final time for the night and let himself be drowned in the cool feeling of the embrace and fell into Morpheus’ arms.

* * *

Numbness. Cold.

He couldn’t feel his toes nor his fingers. Why couldn’t he feel his extremities?

_Blood loss. That’s it. I’m losing blood from a new and unknown wound…. Great, I’m going to be chewed out by Damian AND Tim. At least there’s something they can agree on._

It was a rational explanation: he couldn’t move because he lost to much blood. If his eyes were closed, it was maybe because he was running the blood loss train and he had not enough energy anymore to open them. So normally, he should be soon falling asleep.

_Falling asleep is bad… you die if you slip into the darkness. Being awoken by Alfred with his defibrillator is not pleasant, and that’s what is coming if I fall asle…_

_Wait… Why am I awake?_

Why was his mind perfectly awake and aware? Why wasn’t the numbing feeling of unconsciousness coming, preparing to switch the lights off? (he got knocked out so many times that he would recognise it anytime) Why was his body numb, but not his mind? Anxious, Dick tried to move his right hand, in the objective to forcefully open his eyes with his fingers. Nothing moved. _Sedatives?_ No, not sedatives, because he would be having problems coordinating his thoughts, and he was wide awake. Creepily awake. Concentrating on his bicep, his tried to flex it, coercing it with all his might. Nothing. Absolutely no response whatsoever, the muscle stayed lax.

_WHY WAS HIS BODY NOT RESPONDING TO HIS BRAIN?_

Panic rose. Along came the sensation of being imprisoned. It clogged his throat, seemingly blocking his airway. His chest felt too tight for his lungs and his heart hammered against his ribcage, wanting to spring free and be out of the prison that his body was. He couldn’t move a limb nor open his eyes to take in his surroundings and figure out why his body was unresponsive. Someone could be in the room, he would be absolutely defenceless and vulnerable. And being defenceless as a vigilante was like a nymphomaniac becoming priest: A bad idea.

It was the perfect trap. He was trapped in his own body, without any chance of digging his way out. The sensation grew stronger and stronger, taking piece by piece his sanity away, tearing any rational thought that tried to bring a solution, only leaving a beast and a little child, that he had carefully locked away the day he became Robin. The child was scared of the dark, and scarred so many times that you couldn’t differentiate his natural expression from the Glasgow smile he inflicted himself to be able to smile even when he felt like crying. The beast, terrified for itself and the little child, scratched the walls of their prison until its claws were raw, blood flooding, roaring its anger and fear, unleashing years of bottled up feelings.

So many times he had to escape death in order to do his job, to protect his family. But hey, he brought this upon himself, so he couldn’t really complain about this, but his family was _fucking off-limits_ , he would die for them any time, no questions. But how many years had he put himself in the line of fire to allow a person to come back to their loved ones, while he lived with the uncertainty nagging him, that maybe one day, he wouldn’t come back home alive. He only hoped that when the day would come, they would have a body to burry and have a chance to mourn him and move on without doing something reckless (unlikely, but hey, a man could dream?) 

So many times had he wondered, sitting on the edge of a building, that he could mess his jump, or just not shoot his grapple. He would just let himself fall, and then finally he wouldn’t have to hide anymore. He would not need to hide his anger or hurt to his family through his Glasgow smile. Wouldn’t have to put up the façade of the big brother to try and fail to keep his family together, getting hurt by the others every time. Because of this _motherfucking_ trap, everything he had control on slipped from his fingers, leaving him whimpering in fear, trying to be as little as possible and hide. But beneath the fear of the dark and the abandonment, he was angry. So angry, against the world for sending villains to fight every night and almost dying, against Bruce for being so emotionally constipated and being incapable of saying _I love you_ to anyone in the family, against himself for falling every time in the ‘We’re going to be a family again’ and seeing how Damian and Jason tried to kill Tim. Several times. _Several FUCKING times_. How he merely killed him too, by taking away from him the Robin mantel. How he heard the clicking sound of the safety on the gun trough the phone and his world crumbled into pieces when he heard Tim’s voice, dead already, asking him if he needed anything. Like he didn’t care if Tim wasted himself, like he wasn’t family. How the realization of what he had done to his little brother fell on him like a truck full of bricks after he hung up.

_Who does that to their fucking family? Who? Are we even a family?_

The beast and the child screamed their fear of being trapped, he screamed his anger of being stripped down to his bare instincts and insecurities, away from any artifices, only through at simple trap.

He screamed and screamed and screamed, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice. He couldn’t see, smell or feel a thing. 

He was just aware. Painfully so, of his own unmoving body. Getting desperate, he couldn’t find a way out. The fear was back, his throat going tighter and tighter with the emotion raising, he could hear his heart thumping against his stern… 

_Wait...What?_

_I can hear my heart?_

And like it happened, it was gone. The fear vanished as he realised that he could _hear_ his own heart, replaced by curiosity. He was still trapped, but it was an improvement. His panic attack faded, leaving him trying to use the right part of his brain and find a logical explanation while keeping at bay another descent straight to insanity. A sudden change in space allowed him to free himself. Through the loss of balance, his inner ear recognised a movement in space, which his brain interpreted like a fall. Instinctively, his body shot forward, in an attempt to prevent the crash. His eyes shot open, arms held in front him to stop his face from making an intimate experience with the floor, when he recognised the ceiling above him and felt himself still falling.

_Well, fuck._

_Incoming carpet in three… two….one…. Ow._

Dick’s bottom met the carpet in a loud thud, the rest of his body following, tangled in the sheets, nearly choking himself with his pillow neatly landing on his face. After a few moments of fumbling, he emerged from the mess and groaning, he pushed the irritating piece of fabric away from his airways and blinked several times, trying to cut through the adrenaline his brain released during his sleep paralysis (because that’s what it is, isn’t it? Even recognised vigilantes get sleep paralysis because, flash news’, they’re human too). Relieved that it wasn’t anything induced by one of the villains of Gotham –namely, Scarecrow- but scared that his own body could be such a bitch to himself, he laid still while his heart rate gradually came back to normal. The beast and the child got back in the cage of his subconscious, and he finally got to move a toe on his own.

Flexing his toes and fingers, Dick got up, careful of his injuries and trying to spare his already cramped muscles. The cold sensation was long gone, and he wished that those arms would come back, so that he could feel something else than his overheated body. Maybe he could even fool himself that those arms where here to comfort him and belonged to someone who cared about him and that it was not an hallucination from his mind, telling him that he was touched-starved and that was beginning to cause a problem (denial became a professional sport in his family). He gave a glance to his alarm clock, praying that he at least got 4 hours of sleep, so that he wouldn’t look like a zombie when he would go to his ‘day job’.

6:45 am. Well, it explains why he was feeling like he closed his eyes 20 minutes ago. Two hours of sleep was nowhere near his beauty sleep, but going back to bed now was impossible. He was way too scared of nightmares. Worst case scenario, he’ll just take a power nap during lunch. Now that the question of sleep was out of the way, the best course of actions was to go down in the kitchen and get started on breakfast, make a pot of coffee for everyone and a tea for Damian, _because yes Damian, you are only fourteen, and at this age, you don’t drink coffee or else you’ll end like Tim_ , and dress the table. Hopefully, Alfred wouldn’t be awake (he went to bed later than any other bat, and Dick was in NO way on Earth going to wake Alfred up to make eggs sunny side up. They could survive without him for simple tasks, no?). Going down the stairs, he walked on Alfred the Cat and Titus leaning against the guardrail. Titus merely moved an ear, intently watching the door next to the stairs while Alfred the Cat hissed at him for stepping on his tail. Turning around, Dick recognised the room they were guarding. Damian’s door was closed, like always, but what was unusual, was for the two furry companions to be outside, normally sleeping with their master every night. 

It only meant one thing: Damian was having a bad night, and he had the bad habit of locking himself up to not risk showing anything near the emotional rainbow, should it be with his pets (that can’t judge him…But logic isn’t his forte when he is tired) or with his family (“ _over my dead body, Grayson. Emotions are for the weak, which I am not, so stop trying to teach me how to smile, it’s unnatural”_ ), but despite his _precautions_ , his pets could hear him trash and they were worried, which was why they were guarding the door.

Sighing, Dick put his hand on the handle and tried to turn it, praying that _for once_ , Damian wasn’t self-destructive and didn’t lock himself up.

The door didn’t budge, and the handle stayed stubbornly in the same position.

_Great. Family of paranoid fuckers. Even a fourteen-year-old prefers the dark and loneliness then a hug. There is so much wrong here._

Rolling his eyes to Damian unsuccessful attempt to lock out demons and friend alike, he bent down and pulled out one of his hairpins, that he used for undercover last week, but for unknown reasons, stayed stuck (for the sake of this story, he didn’t pull it out of his ass…) and quickly picked the lock. After successfully opening it, he picked Alfred the Cat up and motioned to Titus to follow him inside Damian’s room. Even if Dick was silent, he knew that the moment he picked the lock, Damian was awake. His little brother slept like a bat and was wide awake at any suspicious sound or shift in the atmosphere (Thank you, assassin ‘s training), so if Damian didn’t move when he put Alfred the Cat on the bed, it was because he was blatantly ignoring him. Pushing aside the pang in his chest at the obvious rejection for comfort, Dick bent down next to the turf of black hair he could see picking out the sheets near the end of the bed and gave it a kiss.

“Go back to sleep, Dami. They were just worried”, he murmured, trying not to add “like me”, but got no response. Damian was trying really hard to convince him that he wasn’t awake. Too bad he was his little brother. Getting back straight, he petted Titus’ head, resting on Damian’s calf at the head of the bed, and exited the room, closing the door after him.

The kitchen was already occupied the time he got down. Bruce was leaning at the edge of the counter, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other occupied with what seemed to be a graphic of the sales reached for the new product out of WE labs, probably designed by the co-CEO, Tim himself. _Timmy’s a genius, but come on, can’t he stop thinking for a second? Just to sleep before he burns himself out? “ **sleep is a distraction, I have so many things to do, don’t try to stop me ‘cause I have contingencies if you do** ” my ass. _

Speaking of sleep, after further examination, Bruce looked like a panther had chewed him before spitting him out and cherry on top, like he got run over by a truck drove by the Joker. His face was a disgusting mix between red, purple and beige, along with a few stiches on his left eyebrow. His stance left nothing to the imagination, his ribs were cracked and his left clavicle was immobilised. But the sign that gave him away was the size of the bags under his eyes. Those things came ear to the end of his nose with a purple colour that rivalled with Selina’s old costume. Conclusion…He didn’t sleep, at all. “Hey sleepy beauty. Y’know, if you continue to stare so hard at your screen, your eyes are going to cross and you’ll be stuck. Crossed Eyed Batman, the Night itself”. Bruce merely groaned at his comment, before sending him a wave, either acknowledging Dick’s presence or telling him to fuck off, he and his sarcastic comments, the difference was unclear with how slurry Bruce’s movements were. Blinking, Bruce brought an unsteady hand to his mouth, sipping at his most likely cold coffee. 

_Holy shit. He used a pen to stir his coffee, how come he still can stand on two legs? Ew, I am not using this pen anymore, he maybe put it in his mouth after the coffee. GROSS. Why is he still awake? Shouldn’t Alfred already have drugged his ass and put him to bed?_

Seeing that Bruce had avoided Alfred like the plague, even going to the extent to wait for Alfred to go to bed, go out of his own, but staying in his pyjama wear, and then continue to work, Dick rolled his eyes at his father figure but he had leverage. In fact, he just had to tell Alfred, and the butler would take care of the mess. He would force the mighty Batman to go to bed like a toddler, and punish him after by making him clean the suits with a toothbrush.

Smirking, Dick turned to B. “So, pray tell, why aren’t you already in bed, before I find the stash of tranquilizer Alfred hides in the first aid kit and drug your tired ass with it?”

“Language, Dick.” Bruce murmured before putting his mug –still with the pen- back on the counter and letting his head roll on his shoulders. Still smiling, Dick took off the shelf dishes and mugs and began to dress the table, waiting for Bruce to gather his thoughts and spill out the reasons for his sleepless night. B pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning, surely attempting to concentrate and not fall asleep on the spot or asking himself why his first born couldn’t leave him alone when he clearly didn’t want to explain himself. Finally, he opened his eyes and groaned “Couldn’t sleep.” Dick snorted. _No shit, Sherlock._ “Yeah, I can see that. The question is…Why?”

“Jason didn’t report to me yesterday.”

Dick stopped dead in his track, before relaxing. “But wait, Alfred said he made it back to one of his safehouse without any threatening wounds.”

“Maybe, but I have the feeling that he is either hiding something from me, or that he is angry with me and wouldn’t talk to me yesterday because of this.”

 _Well, ain’t that some bullshit._ Holding back a laugh, Dick put Bruce’s mug in the sink. B’s sulking was obvious, and the reasons as clear as day. He was worried about Jason, and because he didn’t have the vocal confirmation from his son himself that he was okay, he was left wondering if Jason suffered any damage that Alfred didn’t know about. Knowing Jason, it was exactly because of it that he refused to report to Batman orally. Bruce would’ve spotted the problem at the moment Jason opened his mouth and he would’ve ended in the medbay before even saying rookie mistake. But the aftermath of this decision on Dick’s part was a worried father, that couldn’t sleep because he didn’t know _where_ this damn safehouse was, and take some very needed rest. “Motherhen.” He whispered in B’s ear, sitting on the counter. If Bruce heard him, he didn’t show, but the truth was out for Dick. B was just a worried dad.

Gently, he put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders and began massaging them, trying to soothe his worries. Under him, the tired muscles loosened more and more, until B was leaning in his hands, relaxed. Laughing softly, Dick applied more pressure on a tight spot. “Go to bed, Big Bad Bat, you can’t think straight. And if I remember correctly, Jason said he’ll come today to the Manor to report about the underground situation of Crime Alley. So you’ll see for yourself if he is as okay as he claimed to Alfred to be. _Speaking of which, if Alfred didn’t react to that, then it must mean that Jason’s really okay or that he dropped the matter for now. You can’t lie to Alfred. Not even Tim._ But in order to do that, you have to be able to keep your eyes open. So go to sleep. Oh, and don’t worry, your motherhenning tendencies are safe with me.” Bruce didn’t respond, but pushed farther in Dick’s hands, clearly enjoying the free massage. Finishing quickly his work B’s shoulder blades, he hushed him out of the kitchen to his bed. Once Bruce was settled, without smartphone, tablet, computer, or paper related to any of his work (day or night), he slipped some Advil in his water and exited the room.

Back in the kitchen, he got started on breakfast. Even with a fresh pot of coffee, no one came down the stairs, being woken up by the smell. _Perfect, the case we closed yesterday about those shipments of drugs must’ve exhausted them. B, T and Babs stayed a few nights up to catch some leads._ Getting out of the fridge some butter and marmalade, he put them on the table while eating his cereals, and he remembered that Damian had only school at 10 this morning because of a teachers meeting. It was great, it only meant that the fourteen-year-old would only sleep in more.

* * *

Getting quickly dressed, Dick went to work singing loudly along Keep your eyes open from NEEDTOBREATH in Büldhaven. Even if the day started a bit shitty, with this panic attack, and Bruce dead tired, Dick stayed optimist and greeted everyone in the office with a Thousand-Watt-smile and quickly got started with his most feared enemy: paperwork. The day went on as quiet as a day in a police office in Büldhaven could be, with call in for robberies, some shooting in groceries stores in Crime Alley, rapes cases and murders. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not that he complained, because out of the ordinary generally meant the Joker being in town, with a pile of bodies behind him and a massacre planed ahead.

_Nothing out of the ordinary, heh, since when did a murder or rape case became ordinary?_

Realising that he since long stopped being surprised by the amount of horror humans were capable for each other, Dick let his head roll on his right shoulder and wished for the time to go on a little faster, so that he could save people with an awesome spandex reinforced with Kevlar suit and not bother with the hell on Earth that was paperwork. Sighing, he went for a refill to the coffee machine and while the machine buzzed, he turned around and observed the office. Every officer looked tired, it was Friday after all, so it meant a weekend full of wives taking their vendetta against their cheating husbands and disappearing children, leaving for a better life with their romantic partners, but coming back on Monday when they realised how big and scary the world was. Spotting an officer that looked worse than the others, Bobby Buffalo he thought, that was pinching the bridge of his nose, while the civilian sitting across the table looked near a panic attack, he took his mug and quickly took the three strides to Bobby’s desk, dreading a disaster.

The conversation was quiet, but the non-verbal communication going on was a dead give-away. Bobby was tense, but this tenseness was not directed to the man in front of him, that screamed trauma with his squared shoulders and his hands clamped on the hem of his shirt. The man shot his head up, eyes wide, and assessed the threat that was Dick before relaxing when he recognised the badge and the non-threatening position the officer was in, hands around his coffee mug and weapon stashed in its holster, leaning on the wall in the doorway. Bobby leaned on his elbows, refocusing the man’s attention on himself after waving to Dick, and asked him to fill Dick in “So you’re saying that there’s a new player in town?”

Dick’s tunnel vision narrowed to focus solely on the discussion taking place in front of him, his warm but disgusting coffee now completely forgotten. The man shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable to retell his story, but willing to say it again for the sake of the case. “Listen cop, it’s like I told you, it wasn’t any of the freaks in spandex we know and love.” Bobby shook his head “Hold up, I didn’t write that down, but did you see who it was, yes or no?”

The man rolled his eyes, clearly an adept of sarcasm “Why didn’t write it down when you heard me the first time? Wasn’t I clear enough? I had my face shoved on the asphalt and the ass up in the air. Those pieces of shit were going to take a sweet time making me feel them in the north side of my body when… I don’t know, the dude holding my hips just vanished into thin air. Poof. I hear a big thud and some shuffle, and one by one they were taken out…”

Dick intervened, shifting to show his face fully to the man, trying to understand why this man seemed to believe that his saviour wasn’t one of the bats. “But why do you think it wasn’t anyone we know? Robin’s pretty silent and Black Bat even more…”

The man threw his hands I the air “Will you let me finish, you jackass?! Jesus! Has anyone told you it’s rude to interrupt? Like I said to Zombie in front of me, my bottom was presented to the world when it happened, but after taking them out, this person did something none of the bats would’ve done. They picked me up, took my pants and helped me slid them back on myself, all of it without showing me their faces. Even if it was Robin, he would’ve said something to stop me from trembling, because I wasn’t sure if I was in more trouble than before. And he clearly wouldn’t have picked me up the streets. So yeah, no birds, no bats…. Only conclusion, new player.”

Bobby observed the man closely “You sure? Could’ve been a civil….” The man frowned and tilted his head to the side “No asshat, I know what I saw. I was trembling so much that the hands holding me helped me buckle my belt, like a damn toddler. And those hands were gloved with some Kevlar shit, and they were homemade. Yessir, designed. Black with red veins all over the back of the hand. So cool and expensive. No civilian would wear this in Crime Alley, it’s the best way to end up in a body bag.” 

Having heard enough, Dick turned around and walked away, leaving Bobby to deal with the charges the man would certainly want to press against his aggressors. The man was no use if they tried to determine an identity. But with the example he used, directly going for Baby Bat as a point of comparison, Dick assumed that maybe this new player was near Robin in body type or complexion, maybe personality. Maybe Tim or Damian decided to go under a new identity, and try a new way of fighting crime. _But if of them did, they would’ve told us, just to be safe and avoid any bullet hole shaped mistakes, no? We don’t want the mess with Jason go on repeat._ But just to be sure, his next mission would be to search the Manor for a new suit, or rather determine if Tim had slept any of the night in the Manor and if Damian went to school. Because the rape attempt was only early in the morning, so one of those two should have stayed out longer than Dick, which was unlikely. But it needed to be done, just to cross out the options. Thinking, Dick went back to his desk and half-heartedly did his job for the next three hours.

After lunch, Commissar Gordon went up to him with a small holder and threw it on his desk.” That’s all we have on the mysterious holder with dark gloved hands. I swear, this city is going to drive me nuts.” He continued, while Dick opened the holder and observed the drawing of the glove one of the portraitist had done.

“This is getting ridiculous, we have a whole bunch of freaks waltzing around in spandex and masks and now they are new ones too?! Clearly, they’re a bad influence… Or drugs. They think that what, it’s carnival every day?”

Dick snorted, eyes still on the paper “Considering what they do, I think Halloween is more appropriate, Commissar.”

“It could be Hanukkah, I wouldn’t give a rats ass about it. We have enough problems as it is, so one vigilante less would be more manageable.”, the Commissar sighed, defeated. He went quiet as the man previously interrogated came up to them and slammed his hands on the desk, shoulders tensed, but with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

Looking directly at the Commissar, he spoke “Before I take my leave and we never see, hopefully, each other again, I wanted to ask that if you see the spandexy midget, you tell them thank you for me, please? If it wasn’t for them, I would’ve likely died stuffed like a piñata” Gordon made a face, clearly uncomfortable with this kind of image just after lunch. Dick frowned at the adjective used. “Wait, midget?” The man turned his head to him, and quirked an eyebrow, “I mean, yeah, the hand that sneaked around me to buckle my belt was freaking tiny. And I didn’t sense like the space behind me was filled, unlike when Red Hood or Batman appear. So, if the size of the hand says anything about a person’s height, then this new player is damn tiny, maybe like 5’1 or 2’’, around the same height as Miss Nastyglance over there.” He motioned to a female officer, that was glaring at her screen, trying to make her computer work just with the force of her mind. “So honeybees, if you see them again, you pay them my respects. In a friendly way.” He added, serious, looking nothing like the trembling man that entered the office a few hours ago. After that, the man gathered his belongings and exited with a wave to Bobby, thanking him for taking care of him when he was at his lowest. Bobby seemed worried to let him go without any relatives to support him in the trauma, but he had wrangled out his phone number and made him promise to call when he came back home after getting checked in a hospital.

Dick phone’s dinged as the door of the office closed itself on the man, letting him know that Jason was at the Manor. Alfred was up, taking a cup of tea with him, and B was still sleeping, thanks to the butler for keeping him forcefully in bed and giving him a shot of happy dreams. Dick smiled at the colourful language Jason used and hoped that no disaster would appear out of nowhere before he could make it back home. Bruce had the nasty habit of putting his foot in his mouth when he was worried, and that kind of behaviour was the best way to send Jason as far away as it was humanly possible. _Emotionally constipated bastards._

The day went on uneventfully, and Dick was able to check out at what a normal human would consider average, around 6 pm. On the way back, he picked Damian up, school ending a little bit later because of the teachers meeting in the morning. If one thing was certain about Gotham Academy, it was that, despite the crap they pulled on the rich kid policy, they were intransigent about grades and 35 hours’ week. He honked on the parking lot, making Damian aware that he was here to pick him up, previous to his messages saying he was on his way to his school. Scowling, the kid made his way up to the car and opened the door in the front before sitting heavily and putting on his seatbelt. Smiling at the display of such a normal behaviour, Dick started the car and exited the parking lot. After a few minutes of silence, Dick not being the silent kind, couldn’t hold it anymore. “How was your day, Dami?”

Damian didn’t answer, looking out the window. Observing a little closely, he looked like crap. The bags under his eyes were visible, even with a layer of makeup. The bruises he received the nights before peeked out of the collar of his shirt and looked nasty in the evening light. The way he was slouched in his seat showed that his ribs must’ve hurt during the day, which was concerning, because he didn’t report any injuries on this area yesterday. Frowning, Dick repeated “Dami?” A sigh, then, “I am well, Grayson. Shouldn’t you keep your eyes on the road before you drive us directly into a tree?” “Are you telling me to shut and leave you alone, Baby Bat? ‘Cause, y’know, it won’t work and you know that. So, how was your day?” 

Damian sighed again, clearly not wanting to answer. But knowing Dick, if he didn’t now, then the car would be stopped and he would be engulfed in an octopus hold until he spilled the beans, like Jason said, or worse, Dick would tell Father or Jason and they would poke him until he told them everything. Better do it now. Moving around, clearly being uncomfortable about the subject, which made Dick frown even deeper, he finally spoke “The day was uneventful, as always. I was shown how brainless my… colleagues, as you so wonderfully put it, can be. Not just in class, but also in a matter of social skills. I don’t understand how mocking someone because of their identities or their beliefs can be amusing. This is beyond me.” 

The smile that had started to appear on Dick’s lips disappeared at the last sentence. His hands went rigid on the wheel. “Someone’s getting bullied? Who is it?”

Damian adverted his eyes, refusing to speak. “Damian, who is it? You? You’re getting bullied, isn’t it? That’s why you got hurt on the ribs, no?” Dick started to panic.

Damian turned around, frowning so much that Dick got worried for a second he would be stuck with this expression forever. “No, I’m not the one being bullied, as you put it, I can’t be bullied you…idiot. They remember too well the incident of last year. No, not me. As for my ribs, don’t worry about it, I got hit by a ball during PE.”

“Then who?” Dick’s patience was wearing thin, all amplified by the implication that he got hurt in sports class because he was too tired to dodge a ball, if that wasn’t a complete lie Damian told him to stop him from worrying even more. The light in front of them turned red and Dick turned completely to his brother “Damian?”. Said boy was silent, deadly so, his knuckles white around his jacket and his breath was unnaturally even. Dick dreaded an anger outburst that would end with a broken window, but before he could pull over, the light went green and Dick was forced to continue, his attention never leaving Damian’s behaviour. “It isn’t me…But the bullying began after he started talking to me and accompany me during lunch.” His tone was dead, flat. So much anger boiling in such a tiny body. Dick recognised the emotion behind the anger, Baby Bat was riding the guilt train full speed. He felt responsible for the situation.

“Since when?” he had to ask, to get Damian out of his shell, before all this turmoil of emotions could eat him out. “Two weeks”, was the carefully controlled answer, “he transferred to the school about two months ago, but started conversing with me a three weeks after his arrival. I warned him to stay away from me, because I know what the others think about me. In their beliefs, I am a freak, but I am untouchable. Too dangerous if angered. Uneducated fools.” _It’s when I am functioning perfectly that I am the biggest threat, so basically all the time._

“But since that boy started talking to you, he became a target, is that what you’re saying, Dami? You think they are taking their anger for you on him?”

“-Tt-, good detective work, Grayson. Really impressive.”

A humourless laugh escaped Dick’s lips, “Hey, don’t go all Mr. Sarcasm on me. Clearly, you’re right and I’m sorry for that, but he became a target because of his frequentations: you. But you can’t shut him out. It’ll just ostracise him even more and he’ll become the class scapegoat. Being there to protect him is the only thing you can do, like we do with the civilians when we go out at night. Just be his friend.”

Damian turned abruptly at this last sentence and gritted through clenched teeth “A friend? I am a trained assassin! A murderer…A freak. How can I be a friend?! I’ll never be normal, and being a friend is not something I am or can be. I know how to take out an armada with a teaspoon, but I can’t even protect a friend from bullying!”

Damian was helpless, he didn’t even realise that worrying for his friend was a sign of friendship, and a good one. Dick was all over the moon for seeing his little brother, who claimed that he didn’t know emotions, lashing out like this. It meant that he felt those emotions and that he accepted them, even though the situation sucked greatly. Just for bringing those emotions in front of Damian’s brain and making him erupt because of it, Dick wanted to thank the kid. “A friend, huh?”, he looked at Baby Bat smugly.

“Shut it, Grayson. And don’t even think about meeting him, so stop smiling.”

“Ooh Dami, you can’t stop your big bro to want to meet this boy that, in the span of just a month, wiggled his way in your porcupine like walls and made you care for him, so much that you feel helpless now that he is hurt.”

Damian laughed, genuinely laughed even if it was so small that Dick could’ve missed it, before trying to deny that he was in any way friend with this unknown boy. “But back to the matter at hand, we have to get him out of this bullying. We need a plan and after Jason’s report, we will discuss it. No negotiating Dami; I’m in.” 

The rest of the ride was done in silence, Damian thinking hard of a plan to cut short to the bullying his friend was experiencing at school. Dick sent a notification to Jason, asking him to search for Damian’s friend identity, should he pull out camera footages from the school, or stalk his brother, every moves were allowed. It was decided, the Batclan was meeting this mysterious boy. Even if the rest of the family didn’t know it yet.


	2. Barking up the wrong tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bonjournio everyone! I...  
> -OH COME ON,SHUT UP! GET ON WITH THE STORY ALREADY! 
> 
> (the heck you doing here?...) Wow, hold your horses, Wade, I only uploaded the first chapter yesterday...
> 
> -YES. And no sign of any spidery persona! NADA! I want a refund. No spidey, no support!
> 
> Chill out, dude, with the vindicative italiana mama. The time shall come. 
> 
> Teaser: 
> 
> "Dami has a friend?!"

Damian was bored. Out of his mind, left counting the holes on the ceiling, that bored students like him did with a ruler and an ink refill. Boredom was recurrent whenever he is at school, because no one can match his intelligence, even the teachers. The most of them can’t even resolve a three-degree equation without the help of a calculator. He was raised since birth to rule, and he will be going to inherit the leadership of Wayne enterprises anyway, so there is no need for him to learn anymore. And to go to school for that matter. Really, what kind of school has no adaptation program for children who clearly are way superior then the average student?

But today, his boredom was reaching new heights. If boredom even has a level. Economy class was a, as Jason so colourfully puts it, pain in the left nut, because he already knew everything on the subject of the horizontal division of work from Adam Smith and its consequences on the society, but the teacher decided that, even though his grades showed that he clearly had the level of a university student, he should stay in class to try and _socialise_ with the others.

Clearly, M. Judas had a chat with Father or Grayson. Traitor. So, Damian was left glaring at the clock or at the teacher, urging for the class to end so that everybody, mainly him, could get on with their lives. He had started drawing a while ago, but even his imagination was bored. He couldn’t even get inspired by his surroundings, because school was boring _even_ his imagination. He had drawn all his classmates, and his sketches were all about school, complete blueprints of the building’s structure and how many escapes routes existed. It was so uninteresting that despite the correctness of the sketch and the ideas for escape, Mother would be ashamed to see that his child was incapable to stay focused for more than 10 minutes or that he was not murdering them for boring him to death.

Sighing, Damian let his pencil roll out of his hand, wishing that he was anywhere but here, or that something interesting would happen in the course of the next three minutes. If nothing occurred in this time lapse, then he would come up with a shitty excuse, like a _Father had a ski accident_ kind of lame excuse, even though that one was getting old, and go straight back to the Manor, to continue his work on the drug shipment case or search an idea for a gift, to offer at Jason’s birthday.

He already had everything planned for Grayson’s. For Drake, on the other hand, it clearly was a challenge. Because he knew next to nothing about Drake, except that he considered sleep like a distraction and that he’s a genius. But Damian was trying to make amend for some time now, and the only way to show Drake that he meant what he said back then. Back when he realised that he had grown to love his brother and that trying to murder his adopted brother was not how he would be accepted by Father or the entire family, even Cass disapproved his behaviour, or even a way to show love. But because Drake was a mastermind, he wouldn’t believe a word Damian said as an apology. So showing through actions, kind gestures was the plan. And what best opportunity is it then a birthday gift?

Even Grayson didn’t know about his change of heart. If he did, Damian wouldn’t have lived that down and Drake would’ve suspected something fishy. And he would lose all kind of credibility to make amend.

Hearing a forced cough, Damian came back to the sombre reality, realising that he was still in the classroom, and that the three minutes were up. Leaning to the side, he was ready to snatch his backpack and leave this smelly room full of goons in a matter of seconds when M. Judas decided to use this very moment to stand in front of the class and start speaking with a stern voice, eyeing carefully every student and quirking an eyebrow at Damian, clearly seeing that he had no intention whatsoever to stay.

“Okay everyone! I know some of you are impatient to leave for your Geometry class, but before the hour is up and I give you homework, I have some announcements to make. First of all, there was a change in the school policy, thanks to a reorganisation on the teacher’s level. As some of you may know, some teachers overlooked the actions of bullies, rich ones particularly, deciding to turn a blind eye and let things happen. But not anymore. You need to know that this is unacceptable, and will be punished, should you be a perpetrator or only a bystander. If anything of this nature occurs, I want to be informed, because if I don’t know anything, then I won’t be able to help you. Is that understood?”

The class hummed a half-hearted affirmation, some students clearly not believing that this new policy would change anything and deciding to continue their little games of pushing around the weaker students. Damian rolled his eyes, because _really?_ This decision came from a good intention, but any students that would decide to take the teachers upon their offer will end up ostracised, being an even bigger target.

“Secondly, there’s a new student coming in today.”

The silence in the classroom was broken, the students starting to buzz with energy, eager to meet a new classmate -or a new victim, depending on the person-. Murmurs spread, questioning on the new student’s identity. Damian perked his head up in interest, letting his backpack fall to the floor and leaning in, something finally happening that would maybe enlighten his day. The teacher decided to open the door and stretched his neck in the corridor, calling and motioning for someone to come in.

The silence in the classroom was broken, the students starting to buzz with energy, eager to meet a new classmate -or a new victim, depending on the person-. Murmurs spread, questioning on the new student’s identity. Damian perked his head up in interest, letting his backpack fall to the floor and leaning in, something finally happening that would maybe enlighten his day. The teacher decided to open the door and stretched his neck in the corridor, calling and motioning for someone to come in.

Freckles. And scared. Those two elements jump in front of Damian’s mind as he takes the appearance of the new student, _a girl, or a boy? They look androgynous._ The next ten seconds are spent in silence, as the student shuffles with their hoodie, trying to hide their nervousness. A big breath, and they finally speak, catching everybody off guard by pushing off their hoodie. “Hello. My name is Isaac. I’m fourteen, like the most of you. I transferred here because my family had a job offer in Gotham and now I see why it was so well payed. I hope that we will understand each other and get along well. I am pleased to meet you.”

_His voice._ He is fourteen, but his voice has already cracked and is in a lower tune then the teacher’s. Damian is puzzled. His stance clearly shows that he is near a panic attack, ready to bolt out of the classroom should anything go wrong, but his voice is perfectly controlled. No wavering because of the nervousness, just a low tone hitting all the notes, in a perfect rhythm. The class is mesmerized, everybody’s jaws is on the floor –the teacher and Damian alike- looking at what seems like the perfect embodiment of the absolute pitch, even being slightly awkward. 

With that, the boy, _Isaac, his name’s Isaac_ , blushes furiously and quickly goes to his seat, to only stand awkwardly in the alley when he realises that he has none. “Hum… M. Judas? Where should I sit?”

The teacher shakes himself after being asked that question, but can only motion to an empty area near the window, next to Damian, with an incoherent gibberish. Clearly, if the teacher had all his brain cells functioning normally, he would’ve put Isaac at the extreme opposite, but no, Damian is stuck with Isaac for the rest of the year.

Damian shrugs himself out of the magic Isaac’s voice induced. Furious, verging to kill and hide the body kind of anger, without crossing that line in reality (really), he felt attacked by the teacher to consider him appropriate for the new student to sit beside him. Even if Isaac is a new kid, it doesn’t mean that he, Damian Al Ghul Wayne, has to give up the privilege of sitting alone and not have to be annoyed by unnecessary gossip other students love to share. Sitting down, Isaac looks Damian dead in the eye until Damian snaps, “What?” He just shrugs before looking down to his backpack, taking out a pen and a piece of paper before answering him, “Nothing, just don’t kill me.”

_Don’t kill me? Why would I? Except getting on my nerves, I have no reason to legitimately kill you._ Completely forgetting he was comtemplating just that a few seconds ago. 

Damian quirked an eyebrow at Isaac, surprised by the last sentence, that had been said with gravity, absolutely no jokes in there. The tone was still controlled, like during his little speech in front of the class, but was tenser than before, if that was even possible. In fact, after Isaac had spoken, he avoided any eye contact with the Wayne sitting beside him, going to the extent to turn partially his back on him.

Perplexed, Damian shifted in his seat, to see Isaac flinch so slightly that without his training, he would’ve missed it. He taped his pencil on the side of the table and then on his sketchbook, observing Isaac for this experiment. For every sound, the boy moved, crocking his head to the side at the first tap before relaxing slightly after associating the sound with a pencil when he reproduced it on his own pencil case. Isaac was giving Damian his undivided attention, but without looking at him.

Damian’s eyebrow shot to his hairline when he realised that his new classmate was using a technique to get him to relax. With a behaviour that screamed ‘nothing to see, so not a threat here’ with his back turned on him, Isaac was exposing the back of his neck to Damian, in a sign of peace. He was trusting the Wayne not to kill him, like he asked. That kind of behaviour spoke to the animal that was walking alongside the rational part of the brain, sharing with each other the human skin. This gesture was like coming up to someone with the hands wide open, arms free, torso unprotected, but Damian wouldn’t have trusted such stance, because hands were as deadly as weapon. But how Isaac was sitting didn’t allow him to move quickly enough to make a move on Damian or to defend himself should Damian decide to attack. The power of decision was in the hand of the fifth Robin, even though Isaac was clearly following every of his movements, not being stupid enough to trust him on an intimate level.

Damian was intrigued. Clearly, Isaac thought that Damian was enough a threat that he should make clear on an instinctual basis that he wasn’t there to threaten him. So it meant that he was completely serious back then, when he asked not to kill him. He truly believed that Damian had already killed, and that he may consider him a threat and decide to eliminate him. But he wasn’t submitting to his strength, merely offering an olives branch. If he wanted acknowledge Damian’s ‘dominance’ and show that he was situating himself below him, then he would’ve exposed his throat and heart, making Damian’s life easier if he wanted to rip his throat out.

They stayed like this for three minutes or more, in complete silence, Isaac still turning his back on Damian but assessing the threat he represented and Damian weighting the pros and cons. Finally, he sighed, “-Tt- I don’t kill, so there is no need to bare your neck and pray for the best. I’m not going to begin with such a low-life like you. You don’t even have a last name, _Isaac._ ” Isaac’s back relaxed completely, his shoulders slopping down. He turned to Damian, still not looking at him in the eye, a heavy sigh leaving his lips. “Hey, I mean, you were going all _Silence of the lambs_ on me, so you can’t blame a boy for trying his best to avoid a bloodshed, especially if he’s the one who’s going to end bolognesed. Man, red was all over the place. And it was buzzing like crazy, with the war tambours out.” He shuddered visibly, and scratched his ear, as if trying to get rid of an annoying sound. “Why were you angry?”

Damian scoffed, annoyed that he pinpointed that out, even through his mask of the annoyed but perfect student, and escaped the question “Red?”. He did not grasp completely why his new tablemate used the term _red_ to describe the situation.

Isaac just shrugged, oblivious of the boy’s glare, “Yeah, red, like all over your hands and hair when you first looked at me.” Before Damian asked even further questions, he suddenly turned around to face the Wayne heir, as he calls himself. Isaac’s body was facing him, but he still didn’t look at him in the eye, instead tilting his head to the side to signify that he was listening to Damian’s move. He continued when he understood that Damian was staying dead silent on purpose, just to throw him off and make him forget about his initial question, “Right now, red is draped around your eyes and your mouth, and you’re just fucking with me.”

Damian could ask him the _how_ and _why_ Isaac could see something like colours around people, the new one just flat turned back on his chair and focused on the teacher, whispering a quick “Anyway, nice chat. I have to concentrate on the course because I don’t want to fall any further behind in Economics. Cool to meet you, _Damian_ , even if I don’t know your last name.” And forgetting in a matter of seconds Damian’s existence.

The Wayne was left fuming, the deepest scowl on his face anybody in the school had ever seen, trying to untangle all the information Isaac let slip and trying also to cover his bruised ego at the other boy’s capacity to ignore him successfully, even when he was glaring holes in the back of his skull. 

_First, rude. And second, how in the world can you NOT know me, you baboon? Did you live in a jar for the last 40 years to not know the Waynes?! We are worldly famous for Father’s shenanigans as Brucie (and the ones from his family, but let’s not dwell upon that)._ Isaac did not lie when he said that he did not know them, they were no signs of it. No muscles contraction, no dilated pupils, nothing. He was truly ignorant.

Even more perplexed, Damian resumed his doodling from before and began to chew on the mystery Isaac was beginning to become. The guy came from nowhere, was seeing colours in places that didn’t exist in this reality realm, had the behaviour of an animal in order to prevent any unfortunate dismemberment and finally was rude. That smelled trouble, in capital letters. Damian observed Isaac closely, and by the way he was crouched on his chair and listening to the teacher, he seemed like he couldn’t hurt a fly. But appearance could be really deceiving, so Damian decided to keep an eye on the new walking mystery for the sake of his sanity and to push away his boredom. He didn’t trust Isaac to not bring some crazy ass monsters straight from Allah knows where. Maybe it was his paranoia speaking, but anything new meant more than he liked something bad coming, and he wasn’t about to take any chances.

Economy class went without any incidents, but Isaac sent Damian a few glances in Philosophy class every time the teacher -this teacher got on Damian’s nerves more than others because of this attitude of considering that his words equalled God’s word and therefore should not be questioned- spewed some bullshit about artists being prostitutes, selling themselves through their artwork and desperately trying to lure people and get their attention, or started yelling at some students because they didn’t highlight in the right colour. And to be honest, his mood only worsened when he discovered that Isaac had decided to sit next to him for every class they had together, much to their classmates’ surprise (they expected –and for some of them, hoped- for a public execution at the second the economy class was over)

During lunch, he observed from afar, and could analyse the interactions Isaac had with some other students. He was clearly guarded around them, talking gladly with them, offering a smile, but anytime someone new approached or one made a grand gesture, he was immediately wary and tensed. He stared at every person when they were talking, clearly assessing their threat level, but avoided eye contact at any cost. He refused to look at them when talking to them, preferring to turn an ear to them or the discussion- much like he did with Damian at their first meeting-.

Surprisingly, even with bullies that only made contact to get a taste of a potential victim, he relaxed after a few seconds of interaction and didn’t pull the same stunt he did with Damian. Unsurprisingly enough, the behaviour of his classmates changed when the discussion came to colours he was seeing around people. Some of them were clearly uncomfortable, thinking that this poor dude had not all mugs on the shelf, as he showed them where the colour should be. But none of them asked what the position of the colour meant, and Isaac never offered an explanation.

School life and rules obliged, because Isaac was a bit out of the box as normal, and because of his apparition during the middle of the year, all added with his behaviour, he was quickly labelled _freak_ , like Damian – though not with the mention _dangerous, can dislocate a shoulder without blinking_ \- and was left mostly alone. People came to talk to him about work he had to catch up with or just small talk, but beyond exchanging names or homework, everybody stayed away from him. Something set them off about Isaac. Meanwhile Damian ignored him in class, even when Isaac tried to talk to him about uninteresting matters, but watched him from afar during lunch, PE, basically every time he could, and took notes of anything weird on a villainous level.

But quickly, it became not enough. Damian’ paranoia was leaving him awake at night, wondering if this new boy was the calm before the storm, ready to shred them to pieces. He had to pierce this mystery, or he would end up with grey hair before his puberty.

The best strategy became clear: he would put Isaac under constant surveillance, at school and at home. He hacked the school servers to retrieve an address, learning Isaac’s last name: Menourem. There was no mention of any parents of any kind in Isaac’s file, just a sister, Elilian. He broke in during school hours, knowing that nobody would be there, Isaac’s sister working from 7am to 8pm every day and Isaac himself being at school. He bugged the whole apartment, placing cameras in every room – not forgetting the bathroom, even if he didn’t want to have the image of Isaac taking a shit on his camera feed- and designed his patrol route so that he would pass on the rooftop in front of Isaac’s bedroom. He would then watch Isaac and his sister have a complete normal life.

His brothers picked up on his change of route and Father confronted him about it, but he quickly dismissed his worries, saying that he had saved someone during patrol and they had asked to keep an eye on them, scared that whatever monster attacked them would come back if Robin wasn’t there. And him being the white knight on the mighty horse that he was _immediately_ agreed. He got teased for it, but it was better than having his brothers snoop around and have at the end to explain himself to them when they would see that he was stalking the perfect little civil Isaac was.

Himself thought that way too, but just to be sure, he stalked him even harder, going to the extent of mapping his whole movements, following him to his dance courses and taekwondo training for the whole week. The only one in the loop was Alfred, who merely arched an eyebrow when he got a call from Damian asking to be picked up near the sports club, in the pouring rain, to only respond that he was already on his way.

_Pennyworth knew all along. Is he sentient? I know Father tested him for any mutant genes, but his deductive abilities are humanly impossible. He nearly resembles Sherlock Holmes, without the annoying doctor at his side._

Disappointed that nothing crispy was going on, but reassured that it meant nothing dangerous would be dumped on them, he continued his nightly surveillance for about a week just to be sure, and ignored him at school. 

But Isaac didn’t hear it that way. School went on his nerves, aggravated by the change of scenery and all of the new people, making fun him while his back was turned. So when he saw Damian not even casting a glance in his direction when he greeted him at the beginning of Philosophy class on Monday, he snapped. Slumping in his chair, he took out his notebook, angry, trying to reign his temper before he would explode. Damian, being the _fine_ detective that he was, frowned at his tensed shoulders and the anger radiating from his persona, even with his breath controlled. Normally, everything should be fine, Isaac didn’t see his sister in the morning, because she normally left for work early as always but they shared a civil meal the evening before, Damian knew, because he was watching over them. Maybe in the bus, he was run over by an old lady and her rollator. The fifth Robin was perplex, but he didn’t really care if Isaac was angry, if it only meant that he would leave him alone.

The class began, the teacher spewing nonsense as always. Isaac waited for the teacher to start a rant about the Oedipus complex, and how much we are fucked up in our heads because we were part of a love triangle early in our lives, before turning partially to Damian and whisper-scream “Are you bloody bipolar?!”

Damian blinked, not really understanding why Isaac’s anger was directed at him and enjoying the slip in the most British accent he ever heard, aside from Pennyworth’s. Surely he left the new one alone, so why should he be angry? Avoiding as always eye contact, Isaac got the confirmation that Damian was not going to talk when the Wayne tapped his pen on his paper, and continued, getting even angrier, “I told you that I wasn’t a threat and that I wasn’t here to do you harm, so, here comes my question… WHY?!”

“-Tt- What are you talking about? I left you alo-”

“No, you didn’t! Watching me from afar in school, noting every strange behaviour – which, by the way, must be hard, because my face is next the definition of strange in the dictionary- is not leaving me alone. But school I understand, you want to have every bits of information about your new classmate. Won’t blame you for paranoia, in this city. What I don’t really understand is stalking me. Like, really?!! Following me home? Lurking on a rooftop, watching me in my bedroom like a _bloody_ weirdo?!?!”

“Again, what are you talking about? Is that a new technique to try and get my attention? If it is, then take a ticket and wait in the line. I have other things to do then paying attention to an extra.”

“Really, Wayne? We’re going down this road? Okay, then how do you explain the boy I saw Wednesday evening, just in front of my window, with the same height, same body mass – I saw you jump in sports class and the sound of the landing was the same, so proof- and same shoe size than you? Hell, I can just do a DNA test on the hair I found when I went to check I wasn’t hallucinating. What will the results be? A 100% match maybe?!”

From annoyed, Damian went to deadly in matter of seconds. In a blink, his knife was drawn – which slipped Grayson’s thorough search and patting this morning, _thank you very much_ \- and the sharp end went to Isaac’s thumb and sliced. Blood pearled and Isaac withdrew his hand, hissing, more surprised by the location – he thought that Damian would’ve gone for the throat and ask question later- than in pain. Standing up, the Wayne boy took him by the arm and forcefully hauled him up, managing to get everybody’s attention. Turning to the teacher without letting go of his arm, he declared in a flat tone, “He cut himself on the edge of the table. I’ll show him the infirmary, because I don’t think anyone already has.”, and looking at Isaac, “Now come, you fool, I don’t want to have your DNA on my papers.”

Isaac snorted and murmured, “Like you don’t have some on your knife to test it...”

They exited the classroom together, with everybody’s eyebrow shooting up to their hairlines. They walked a few meters and left the main hallway, turning left to the administrator section, which was less frequented.

As soon as they disappeared in the hallway, Damian slammed Isaac against the wall, putting the knife against his throat. “What. Are. You. Talking. About.”, he hissed, blocking Isaac’s airways for a brief moment, to make him understand the precarious situation he was currently in. Isaac merely relaxed and sarcastically quirked an eyebrow, looking away from Damian’s face as soon as the fifth Robin came too close for comfort, “What am I talking about? Oh, I don’t know, how about you sweeping through my flat, putting bugs and cameras in every corner, invading my privacy and my sister’s?! See, when I spotted you, I wasn’t so sure, but honestly, Robin doesn’t just do surveillance from a window. He bugs you, inspect all your accounts, learns everything about your life. I’m also talking about you wearing a bloody neon costume, lurking at my window, watching ME! I would’ve been flattered if I wasn’t so pissed that I had to abstain from jerking off for two whole weeks!”

Damian must’ve made a face, because Isaac sighed and whispered, “TMI?”

The knife was pressing even harder, threatening once again Isaac’s blood vessels, and restricting his movements so, that if he tried to move, he would end up with the imprint of the blade in his flesh, making a smile like scar on his Adam’s apple. “How.”, was the only word he was able to get out of his gritted teeth, already hearing the shame and anger in Father’s voice when he would announce that he got busted by a classmate he stalked. Mother was screaming in his head to kill him and let the body be a feast for the fishes of Gotham City. Isaac’s stance relaxed even further, going as far as wrap his hands around Damian’s wrist to show them and leaning more comfortably against the wall. “Dude, you said you don’t kill. But I know for a fact that you did before- Robin is infamous like that-, so why not pull out the knife before anybody sees us. I am way too angry at you to hug you in order to hide this wonderfully made slicing object.”

“I am seriously reconsidering my no killing rule, so do not test my patience with witty banter. Answer. _How?_ ”

Isaac only smiled, a confident smile, “I can see your battle with your blood lust. Not killing is harder than you thought, but right now, red is not around your eyes, so you’re not losing your shit. Yeay, win. So you won’t kill me – or anyone for that matter- today. Applause.”

Again with the _Red,_ Damian was lost. Isaac had seen perfectly what had happened in his mind and pinpointed that out with the use of a colour. The fifth Robin was getting suspicious that the colours had something to do with his revealed identity, even though it seemed clearly unbelievable. During his search in the Merounem’s apartment, he didn’t find any sign of magic or suspicious furniture, - Isaac’s sister only having weird taste in decoration- which lead him to think that Isaac was indeed crazy. Clearly, he was wrong.

Seeing that Damian had no intention of moving any time soon, Isaac shrugged and tightened his grip on Damian’s wrist and pushed the knife a tiny bit away from his throat and tilted his head, eyeing the floor thoughtfully. He then looked at the ceiling, “I know. Follow me and I’ll explain how I knew it was you beneath the hoodie. And then you can take out all the bugs and cameras you put in our flat, before we go completely _Ghostbusters_ and fry them.”

Damian was not trusting him, but after everything Isaac had said and done to signify that he wasn’t a threat, nor willing to be taken as one in the future, he decided that he was smart and trained enough to handle any unexpected situation. Pocketing his knife, he motioned for the new boy to lead the way, glaring at him for good measure. Much to his surprise, they exited the school by signing themselves out, using the skiing excuse for Damian and a cold for Isaac, and hit the streets. The walk went on without any sound from each other, Damian growing more and more curious and wary at Isaac, who was seemingly perfectly fine with leaving him in the dark. As they walked nearby a bakery, Damian finally recognised the neighbourhood – he took this route when following Isaac home, the first time he got out. - Knowing now where they were heading, Damian was only left wondering _why._ But when Isaac opened the door to his apartment, the truth slapped him in the face like Barbara did when he accidently tripped a wire and sent the nest on lockdown.

Colours. They were colours everywhere. The first time he came in, he didn’t pay attention to all the nuances on the walls and around the furniture, to busy searching for information. But now that he was invited, he could look up and take in all the undertones of beiges and whites of the living room and the ceiling, how the black of the piano on the corner and all smoky colours of the other instruments lying in different corners of the room brought out the sofa and the table near the kitchen area. It was like a wool sweater with a collared neck and décolleté that succeeded to underline elegantly the breasts of the wearer and her figure, giving it a respectable atmosphere and kind of homey. There were plants everywhere, with flowers popping out, in different colours and shapes. Damian, as an artist, was slapping himself for not seeing it the first time he came here. But it was understandable, because he came here as Robin in the skin of Damian, and not as the artist that popped in whenever he was safe and alone in his room, free to draw whatever he wanted.

Isaac laughed and Damian realised that he had been staring. Adverting his eyes as soon as the Wayne boy set his own on him, Isaac motioned with his hand to follow him further into the place. Picking up his jaw left on the floor, Damian followed him into his room, to be awestruck for a second time – _bitch slapping himself for the second time today_ -. Like the living room, Isaac’s bedroom was all about nuances and glimpses of warm and cold colours in unexpected places. Brown and green were dominant, with the bed and the wooden table in warm brown, and the sheets and the three stripes on the wall to be a pine green, with blue pooping up on the walls with photos and some purple picking out from his underwear drawer. The room was lit up by the dull sun from Gotham, blocked by all of the pollution, and gave a peaceful atmosphere when Isaac stood in the middle. He looked surreal, and Damian only wanted to sit down and draw him, to capture this moment out of time, purely human and truly beautiful.

The moment was broken as Isaac reached out for his chair. Damian had it preciously stashed in his memory to try to recreate it later. But the moment turned from beauty to pure confusion as he watched Isaac frantically beginning to search through his desk drawers, pulling out papers and papers filled with crap – doodles of the philosophy professor, one of what he did not want to believe was a caricature of him with snots running down his nose- before coming to a sketchbook that wasn’t there when Damian searched the room. Pulling it out, Isaac sat down on the floor and looked up to Damian, only to advert his eyes when he met his. “I think you’re beginning to understand, but I’ll give you the final proof that will maybe the last nail to my coffin if you decide that I’m a threat and make me disappear form the face of Mother Earth. Without killing me, sure.” He then reached out his hand holding his sketchbook and gave it to Damian, who opened it, perplex of why Isaac was giving him his clearly most precious belonging, giving himself bare to the scrutiny of Damian’s mind.

Curious and more excited than he would admit, Damian opened it and refrained his desires to let his jaw fall to the floor –for the third time today, seriously honey, could it stop?!- and to bolt at Isaac to kill him. In the sketchbook were drawings of him. Not just him as Damian, but also him as Robin. On the first page were two drawing, looking almost like pictures: His face as Damian, looking bored, probably drawn from a memory of History class, and his face as Robin, hood down and domino mask on. The shades and contours lines were put in the same places and the two drawing, minus the domino, looked identical. But the interesting part was the colour on it. His faces were done with a pencil, and the shades too. But droplets of colour were on it. As a civil, red was around his mouth and eyes, while as a vigilante, red was around his hair and ears. _Red._

“You said you saw red the first time we met.” 

“Yeah, and it was around your hair and ears, like something bad was whispering to you, or just anger was showing through.”

“This is how you found out?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Thing is, those places are general for all people. If someone’s angry, then it’ll show like it showed on you, same places. But what gave it away was the colour. Everybody has a unique colour and that’s how I recognised you, Damian Wayne, as Robin. You were going all weirdo under my window, and if it wasn’t for the colour, I wouldn’t have spotted you. It’s pretty weird to recognise your table neighbour as one of the famous thigh clad vigilante, lurking in the dark like the roof top is your playground. Every colour has its nuances, and for you I used #eb1523, but around your stomach there’s another nuance, duller and sombre, almost like #70060d.” Damian took a short breath at the mention of his stomach, but Isaac continued, undaunted, “The colour of blood. That’s weird, ‘cause I’ve never seen something like this before.”

So it meant that Isaac was a mutant. No doubt. An a dangerous one for that matter.

“You’re a meta.” His voice was cold, weighing if yes or no he should tell Father about new metas roaming Gotham. One that could bust out his identity by one look.

Isaac tilted his head on the right side and smiled, “Naaa, not it this sense. When you recognise someone on the streets, I recognise a colour. You see an emotion, I see a spot on the body. Same difference, our brains are just not made the same. I’m no mutant with a radar, I just associate things differently than you do. But I don’t know why I see two colours on you. Maybe someone who left an impact on you… I dunno. ”

Isaac seemed content with his explication, and did not look curious as why another colour was lingering on his body. _His stomach_. The pain flared as he remembered his death by the hand of his mother, obscuring his vision. It had been the worst moment of his life (pun intended).

What had really pushed him metaphorically on his knees was the realisation that he wouldn’t be able to help Father anymore. That he wouldn’t be there to ensure that Father would not kill, him and Todd taking that decision for him, taking out some villains permanently in order to keep their father’s sanity. If Father lost his moral compass, then they were all doomed, because once you tasted blood, there was no coming back, not really. Todd understood now why Batman couldn’t kill, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t kill for him. Grayson turned a blind eye and sometimes Tim provided the targets.

But knowing that they would have to continue without him, that he wouldn’t be there anymore, it had struck him. That he wouldn’t be there to enjoy the company of Alfred, with some Earl Grey and Pennyworth on his lap, purring. That he wouldn’t be able to put his fist in the face of the goons they fought every night. That he wouldn’t see Father smile at Superman and Wonder Woman like they were the most precious thing he ever had the chance to hold. Like Jason looked at Dick whenever he thought that no one was looking. Selfishly, he thought that he was too young to die, had too many things he had now the right to explore to be run through by a katana.

Coming back to reality when a hand waved in front of him, he snapped his eyes back at Isaac, who was wearing a concerned face. “What?” he spat, clearly not over the fact that a civilian had discovered his identity and was now _concerned._

“You okay? I have the feeling you went in a bad place of your memories, ‘cause the red on your stomach started to spread.”

_Oh right. Colours._ Seriously, it was starting to get kind of annoying. Those colours were like an emotional state detector and it was unnerving to know that a stranger could read all his emotions by just looking at the _colour_ on his body. Scowling, he sighed, “I am well, no need to dump your worries on me.”

Isaac just snorted, disbelieving. An awkward silence settled, the two boys not knowing what to say anymore. Everything had blown off, they had nothing more to discuss. Damian wanted to go back home to figure his next move about Isaac – maybe locking him away to make sure that he wasn’t about to hand him to the cops, or someone worse for that matter- and take a nap before patrol. Standing up, Isaac handed him his hand to help him up and turned at his face him for the first time of the day, eyes glued on a point over Damian’s head. “You know what? I think you’ll want to keep an eye on me, secret identity yada yada, so why not be friends? That way you can drop the creepy act and I’ll have a conversation partner in school. Win-win situation.”

Damian wanted to laugh at his face. Him, a friend? Had Isaac really gone insane for him to ask that? And also, he hadn’t ignored him for a while to now become friends with him. That would absolutely be counterproductive. But seeing Isaac stare nervously in the space them, he doubted his judgement for the first time today.

That was _way_ too simple. Or maybe not, Kent had done the same and they were now on ‘friendly’ terms. But the situations were different. Kent was an alien with superpowers that fought alongside him, while Isaac was a stranger that busted his identity in no time with some weird brain powers. It smelled trouble, and Damian wasn’t sure this would be a good idea. But he had come a long way from the antisocial brat he once was, being rude, seeing friends as a liability more than a strength and he had to admit, Isaac was getting more and more interesting. So if this contract allowed Damian to keep his surveillance without getting caught, then he would maybe give it a shot. “-Tt- Alright, your idea merits considering. But keep your bragging to a minimum or it won’t be viable anymore.”, he said, standing up on his own, refusing Isaac’s hand, who let it drop at his side with a slight frown.

“You are so weird, Damian.”, muttered Isaac so quietly that Damian didn’t pick it up. He then went in front of him to lead him out of his room, shouting at him before exiting for the bathroom, drowning him in a flow of question before locking the door. “You like hyperrealism? Oh and there’s coffee under the counter. Put it in the coffee maker and start it, I think I need a cup to celebrate our newly sealed friendship. Surely you want one as well, don’t you Wayne? Do you even know how to make coffe?”

Damian almost smiled at the absurdity of it all. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter. Voilà, diner is served. this is a slow build, in case you didn't notice.   
> Tell me what you thought of the interaction between Isaac and Damian, 'cause I tried to get the same vibe I had when I read about Damian and Jon's friendship, with Damian just a teeny-tiny bit more edgy on this one. with a sharp knife.


	3. Mon cul sur la table et mes couilles sur ton front

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Wade...Before you say anything, just hear me out. Please?
> 
> -Nope. Nopedy nope nope. I stayed, not for you, but for Spideyling you created. To show them how life is, to teach them how to eat 60 churros in less than 5 mns, how to woo a pandemonic mercenary that might come their way, but...I don't even have the words for what you did to me when you lied. 
> 
> Patience yields focus, Deadpool, I'll make it better, pinky promise. Look, I don't even question myself why you're here! So go back to your Spider that might need a hug after Tin Can died. Take care of your precious, Golum. 
> 
> \- You can bet your ass I'll take care of his.
> 
> Teaser:  
> "I'm stalked by vigilantes in onesie's. Yeay me."

The ride home went in silence, neither Dick nor Damian willing to speak, being way too tired to have a civil conversation except to pull out each other’s secret – in this case Dick pocking Damian until he spilled the beans-. Dick hummed to himself, remembering the song _Keep your eyes open_ from this morning, when everything was less complicated. There was no new player in town and Damian had no friends with bullying problems at school. Simpler life. But he wasn’t complaining, not really. Tonight, he’ll get to see Little Wing at the Manor and hopefully, Jason would stay for the night and even patrol with them. Sure, hugging him and get a good hug in return in front of everyone, without any shooting involved, would be more than optimistic, but hey, a man has to have his dreams.

Pulling in the entry of the Manor, Dick messed with his little brother’s hair, getting a scowl, and smiled, “There we are Baby Bat. Hope you don’t have too much homework, because Jason says it’s gonna be a long night.”

Said Baby Bat grabbed his backpack, swung it on his shoulder, opened the door and muttered, “Don’t be ridiculous. My homework is already done and I took a nap during Philosophy class.”

“Oh wow, didn’t take you for the rebellious type, Dami. You slept through Mr. Crouzo’s class? How’d get away with that? This guy has eyes and ears everywhere, if you slept, he would’ve spotted you” _And you’d be in detention right now._ Damian just looked at him with tired eyes and didn’t have to pull out the act of _I was raised by assassins. If I want to take a nap, I’ll take it. With my eyes opened._ Before he could slam the door with all his teen sass attitude, Dick continued, on a more serious tone, “Don’t worry about your friend. Now that I know, we’ll find a solution together.”

Scowling, Damian turned to him and pierced him with his green eyes, assessing his promise. “-Tt. I’m not worried about finding a solution, I’m worried about the damage is already has been done because of my incompetence and their stupidity.” Finally slamming the door and seeing the car structure tremble for a brief second, he then turned to the Manor and greeted Alfred on the porch. Dick smiled and muttered about teens being dramatic, forgetting that he was even worse than his little brother at this age. Soon, really soon, his brother’s worries would be put to rest, because big bro was coming to the rescue. Parking the car, he soon followed Damian inside.

The Manor was quiet, with everyone gathered in the kitchen. The whole Bat family and extensions was there, enjoying a cup of coffee or tea, depending on the preferences. Barbara and Tim making the geek team were crunched in front of one of Barbs computer, Cass, Stephanie and Damian were exchanging hacks about walking in heels while Jason was staring at Bruce, looking like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and Hell would descend on Earth. Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Dick has arrived, so I believe we can begin.”

Jason raised his head and met Dick’s eyes. For a brief second, Dick was somewhere else. On cloud nine maybe, it didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had the opportunity to see Jason outside of patrol for the first time in weeks. He missed him so much that he ached. The ghost hug he had this morning had calmed that feeling down for a brief moment, but now that Jason was in the same room as him, he wished that everybody would busy themselves with something else _(invasion crisis or whatever)_ and he could hug his boyfriend to death without having anyone eavesdropping – especially Bruce. He would shit kittens if he knew that his two adopted sons were pretty much going on dates and having sex, like every average couple would do, for more than two years-. 

“Close your mouth, Grayson. Everybody’s here, we get it that you’re happy to see them, but drooling is not the best way to show it.”

Quickly, he wiped his mouth before realising that Damian was smiling smugly, like he knew something was up and everybody else didn’t. Jason snorted, clearly seeing were the Demon Spawn was getting to. “Oh shut it, Brat. We both know he just can’t handle my good looks.” Before sending a not so discreet wink at a gaping Dick, who was having trouble not to jump across the table and show him good looks, secrecy of their relationship be damned. Seeing Jason smiling and being at ease in the Manor, with everyone pretty relaxed in his presence shown how much improvement they made since the plan _get Jason’s ass back home_ was activated. It was the light that made his day and the smile creeping around the edge of his mouth was definitely showing it.

Jason blushed so slightly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking, knowing Dick’s train of thought, but focused his eyes back on the matter at hand and slipped into _Red Hood_ mode. “So, now that everybody’s here, we can finally get started.” He waited a few seconds, letting Barbara close her laptop, “We have a problem.”

“Jason, please. We always have a problem. Could you be more specific, I don’t know, like Scarecrow escaped, _again_ , or Harley decided to take the Rogues on a road trip?”

“Stop ruining my dramatic effect, Baby Bird. You really don’t how to have fun, do ya? Anyway,” he continued, before Tim could protest and turn it into a contest, “We have a problem, but I don’t know of it’s a menace or not. There’s a new player in town. A thight clad one.”

Tim put his phone down, Alfred came back from the kitchen holding a trail of cookies like it could be used as a weapon if enough motivated, even Stephanie had stopped smiling. _Batmode_ was so on.

Geez, Batman always the talkative man. Turning to his pseudo-dad he had so much beef with, Jason took a breath and closed his eyes, already feeling the migraine coming. “There’s been rumors for weeks in the streets about a new vigilante. The witnesses I interviewed – all of them are trustful before you ask, they work for me, so they wouldn’t risk their skin by lying to me- said that something helped them out of a dangerous situation. And it wasn’t one of us. The prostitute I talked to said that she didn’t even had the time to draw her own weapon that the thugs were dragged in the shadows by hands shooting out and taken care of. She found them a few feet away from her afterwards, completely knocked out, some of them heavily bleeding, but no life threatening injuries. Here comes the weird part.”

His finger pointed on a camera feed he had printed. “There’s no trace of this new freak on the tape of the street camera, except for the guys to disappear one by one. They knew where the cameras were. And the prostitute said that she heard nothing except the bodies dropping on the asphalt. No screams, no shuffles, no punching or cracking of bones. And some of their injuries should’ve made them scream like a pork being slaughtered when they were inflicted.”

He turned then to his laptop, that had magically appeared at his side – _thank you Alfred Pennyworth-,_ “So I did some background check, and couldn’t find squat. No sign of anyone on cameras, infrared, nothing technological. No blood, no DNA trace we could follow. But there’s some witnesses and police reports saying that some people were saved by some unknown vigilante, hiding in darkness and striking in complete silence. They’re named after it, y’know, ‘Silence’.”

Dick piped up, “I was going to talk about that, but it seems that Jason took the words out of my mouth. We had a victim of assault walk in the office saying that he was saved by someone that wasn’t us. I figured that, maybe it was Damian or you, Cass, but clearly it wasn’t. He said that the vigilante didn’t talk to him to reassure him nor their outfit matched the ones we wear to go out on our crimefighting parties.”

“And seriously, I was thinking that everybody had gone nuts,” Jason continued, not missing a beat and following Dick’s statement, “or inhaled too much of Scarecrow’s gas, until last night.”

Damian perked up, already putting the puzzle pieces back together. “So you’re saying that you ran into them last night? After the shipment case? What were you doing still outside?” The tone was accusative. Jason had a sprained elbow and some ribs cracked, nothing life threatening if he had stayed inside and not gone out searching for trouble. The whole family was now looking at him, scowling, while Alfred had a sedative shot ready.

“Wow, hey, no need to get you panties in a twist, all of you. Alfie, put the needle down. I was going back to my safehouse when I ran into them, directly after catching the Triade at the docks with you. Well, I slammed into them more then ran, but you know, semantics. Anyway, Silence slams into me, cuts my zip line and we land on a rooftop. Roughly. Then they just vault off and disappear into the night, without a sound, like the witness described it.”

Tim stared at him, disbelief clear on his face.”Wa-Wait, they disappeared after that? Then why slam into you in the first place?”

“I dunno, Replacement. Maybe they took the wrong turn? Got lost and their GPS wouldn’t find the right way?” At this point, Jason was scratching his neck and looking at anything but them in the kitchen. Dick frowned, but then saw the look on Alfred’s face. Somebody wasn’t happy with the explanation given.

“I believe, Master Jason, that this is not all the story. You see, I heard that you had run into a wall the hard way during the debacle at the docks yesterday. So I wouldn’t be stretching my deduction abilities when I would say that you had a concussion this evening?”

Gaping, Stephanie turned back to Jason, who was now shooting daggers at Alfred, before smiling. “Dude, dude, dude, they saved your beacon, didn’t they? They cut you zip line ‘cause you were falling and they slammed into you to get you to safety. Your ass got saved by Silence. That’s so cool!” Jason shot his hands in defeat and looked sheepishly at Dick, who was fighting the urge to throw the table to the side and slap the hell out of Little Wing. Or fuck him to oblivion, to show that he cared about his wellbeing and was pissed about his behavior. Both ways worked, one just needed more rope and lube than the other.

“Before you and I have a talk about calling for help, Jason, we need a description.” Oho, _Batdad_ was in town right now, and he was pissed. Jason sighed, feeling the migraine spreading through his skull, “I didn’t see much. They’re clad in black from head to toes. Black thermal shirt covering the hands too, black cargo pants, black military boots. They had an all face-mask on, no eyes showing through, not even holes or lenses. No hair peeking from the mask. There was just a symbol on their chest and back. It looked like roots, spreading all around the arms and hands, the head was covered too. Red on black, you would’ve missed it if it wasn’t for being close. And they’re hella tiny. Like 5’1’’ or 2’’. I can’t say if it’s a female or male, because no breasts in sight, but padding your shirt with Kevlar can hide that, and I didn’t feel anything between their legs. But a jock can do that too. So either a female with small breasts or a young male before hitting puberty, I would say.”

“So basically, we have a nobody running around saving people. And we don’t even have the beginning of a lead. Great.”

“Don’t be like that Timmy, Silence is coming. And we have to be prepared.” Dick high-fived Stephanie while Damian and Tim groaned, defeated. “Seriously, Game of thrones puns? You two are beyond saving, mark my words. Joke aside, what’s the plan?”

“We hunt.” Bruce’s voice rang like a gunshot in the light atmosphere. Strict, no disobedience allowed. The look he gave his family was hard, resolved. “Until we know for sure that nothing shady is going on, we will track them down at every turn and search for any clue to whom they might be. If you run into them, do not engage, follow them to their destination. We don’t know who or what they are. And I don’t want anything to happen to you because of something new coming in town.” _Not again._ The words he could never say rang loud and clear in every head, the message getting across way better now that every member of the Batfamily understood that Bruce loved them, in his own way.

It took years, but the one you understood from the start was Cass. As soon as she walked one night in the kitchen and found Bruce guarding them in their sleep, she made it her mission to open the eyes of her adopted siblings. Few words were spoken, Cass not being a woman of words, but actions took place, pictures were taken to give proof. Jason finally believed it when he came back to the Manor for the first time to find his room unchanged, the book he loved still arranged upside down to be distinguished, to find his old suit under a glass, and his workspace in the Batcave still crowded with his crap. The night after, a single picture was found on the floor of his room: Bruce leaning against his door, slumped on the carpet, with his head raised to the ceiling, tear marks on his cheeks. He was smiling, a smile Jason had never seen before, but that he was beginning to see more and more as the two of them grew closer. The phrase _you believe me now?_ always makes him smile when he turns the picture around to see the backside.

Cass spoke for the first time, using as much as her hands than her voice. “Silence. Help.” accompanied with the sign of _Us_ and _no danger, probably._ Smiling, Dick reached out and took her hand, looking at her in the eyes, “Yeah, I think they want to help too. The question is why, honestly. But wouldn’t it be great if we had another hero to welcome in the family. A bit of novelty here, anyone?”

“No thanks, I already have my hands full with all your asses and the Birds of Prey’s, it only means more trouble.” Barbara was half joking, spinning around her wheelchair, and motioned for Damian to approach. “speaking of trouble, I heard that you made a friend?”

After dropping that metaphorical bomb, she scrutinized him, waiting for a reaction. She got it, but not from the right person. The whole room went silent, everyone turning to Damian with wide eyes. “Holy Mother of freaking coffee, Demon Brat has a _FRIEND_???!?! How!?”

Said Demon Brat was having a bad time reigning his temper. All his guilt came back full force, spreading faster than a disease and he did not want to explode in front of his whole family. But what struck harder was the fact that everyone was disbelieving his capacity at making friends or caring for someone else. So he bottled everything up, sucked his temper down and looked at Barbs straight in the eyes. “Yes I do have a friend, Barbara, and he is well, thank you for asking. And I truly sure I don’t need you to mangle with my affairs.” The atmosphere went cold, and Cass began to stand up to reach for Damian. Before she could finish her move, he turned around to Bruce, “So if you’ll excuse me. I have some schoolwork to finish before patrol. Thanks for the tea, Alfred.” 

Silence made its merry way into the kitchen, before Dick turned to Barbara, who had a pensive look on her face, and sighed, “Tact, Barbs. I thought you of all people in this family would have that gene.”

The answer he got was not the one he expected –but he should have known, it was motherfreaking _Barbara_ he was talking to-. “Shut up, idiot. I already knew about Isaac. What I didn’t and still don’t understand is why Damian hasn’t done anything yet to stop what’s happening to his friend a school. Their friendship started two months ago, and the bullying began t-…”

“Two weeks ago and the kid is new, I know, Damian told me.” Dick interrupted her, curious as how she knew before anyone else in the family, but then again, it was Barbara and her techniques were secrets she would take to the grave – and you with it if you even tried to spy on her- “Seems like today was the breaking point. He sat in the car like someone had kicked a puppy in front of him and I made him spill the beans.”

Barbara smiled, eyes glittering. Her smile was beautiful, in its on way. It was bordering on terrifying, full of raw power and sharp teeth and promised pain. She rolled of the table to come near Dick, whom had discretely moved his chair to scoot closer to Jason. “Finally. Knowing but not being able to do anything was a nightmare. He’s clearly completely at lost about the whole situation and was putting his head in the sand. During the last two weeks, I didn’t see him come with any plans of any kind to make it stop.” As Barbs spoke, Stephanie came closer to finally put her hands on Oracle’s shoulders. Accepting the mark of comfort and support, Barbs leaned in, and let Stephanie make eye contact with her, to speak “So, the plan of playing dumb until Damian would come to ask for help didn’t work, so now what?” With Tim nodding along.

Jason moved in surprise, and used that opportunity to come closer to Dick, pacing in front of Barbara and Steph. “Wait, you knew? And Replacement too?” He watched them wince and look away, both sheepish.

Barbs interjected in their favour, “Don’t blame them, Jay, alright. It was my idea, because we know how well Baby Bat takes a direct confrontation.” _A knife in the kidneys or a crunch in the ankles_ lingered between them, all having experienced Damian’s love for pain at one point. “We didn’t want to rat him out to you, Dick, ‘cause he wouldn’t trust us to keep a secret afterwards. I decided to talk about it now because I was getting desperate and you were in the room, so I could control your reaction if necessary – we don’t need the big brother ready to kick ass and take names, we would need the bro who can support and guide you. But clearly it was not the best timing and I’ll apologize to him after we make clear what our next move is.”

Dick shook his head, a wave of fondness spreading through his chest as he saw his family trying to take care of their little brother the best way they could. The old grudges weren’t forgotten, but forgiven. Everybody recalled what a little shit Damian was as he came to Gotham, but day after day, they could see what an influence they had on him and that Damian was just a kid. With the training of an assassin, yes, but a kid nonetheless, who clearly lacked an image of a healthy relationship.

Bruce moved and everyone suddenly remembered that he was in the room. “I am not good at making plan based on supportive emotions and familial love, but I am willing to try for Damian. I’ve seen how good Isaac is to him.”

Jason snorted and shook his head, a smug smile spreading on his face. “So I assume that we all know about Damian’s new pal – Isaac? – so why not share the deets so we can come up with a kick ass plan that’ll make the brat stick his head out of his room and stop the guilt train he’s riding full speed.”

Tim snorted at the irony of the situation. Damian had clearly got out of his way to hide his new blooming relationship, going to the extent of modifying his patrol route to be in Isaac’s neighborhood and _lie about it_ , saying that he was just reassuring a civilian. Damian never reassured civilians, he merely acknowledged them to toss them out of the way if needed. And his whole family let him lie, knowing perfectly what he was up to and decided to dig out themselves information. _What a fucked up family._

Stephanie lit up at the mention of exchanging information, always eager for gossip. She walked to the table to retrieve Tim’s laptop and log herself in. Not bothering about demanding the password, she hacked her way in and opened a file, while ignoring the exclamation of indignation coming from Tim’s part at the sight of his baby so easily cracked despite all of his contingencies. Blowing him a kiss, she then turned the lights of the kitchen off and connected the laptop to the video projector, newly installed in the room. The wall in front of them came to life with the colors of the PowerPoint titled _Isaac Merounem, an Angel descended on Earth._

Tim ran a hand across his face, disbelief written all over it, “Oh my God, I can’t believe you did a freaking _PowerPoint_ on my computer and I didn’t even see it.”

Stephanie looked up and winked, sweetly responding, “Well it ain’t my fault you were completely distracted those last two months, honey. I would’ve gladly helped, but you know, schedule and all that. And you were with the Titans while I was with the Birds of Prey. Tough life, babe. But I hope you had a good time with Kon, ‘cause I have some moves I need to _train_ before we can see us all together again.”

Tim went beet red at that and sputtered nonsense, while everyone else took note of the relationship status that had been claimed. Bruce closed his eyes at the mention of Tim having any kind of intercourse and wished to forget for a second that he was a detective and that it didn’t take much of deduction to know what he desperately didn’t want to know. Jason smiled at Bruce’s reaction, being the one enjoying the uneasiness of Bruce demeanor.

“Anyway, back to business before I have to rinse my eyes with antiseptic, what do you have Steph?”, Barbara interrupted. Stephanie stood up and began to walk in front of the wall, taking her family as a class and impersonating a teacher. Pushing back imaginary glasses up her nose, she then moved her finger on the screen of the laptop and a picture of Isaac, his back turned, appeared on the wall. “This is Isaac, last name Merounem, age 14, turning soon 15. He is 5’7’’ and weights around 100 pounds. Seems to have no physical handicap and be in perfect health. His skin color suggests that he’s mixed race, but I can’t find anything about parents. Seems like they come from Europe, but I couldn’t pinpoint the exact state. They immigrated, his sister and him, ten years to the US and moved two months ago in Gotham.”

Another slide, “Brown hair with some waves, brown-green eyes, a ton of freckles. Wore braces because the position of his teeth was corrected. The right ear is protruding, the left no. Thanks to some background research, he’s in a dance club, learning all modern dances, with a special accent on modern jazz and hip hop, and trains also in a taekwondo club. Brown belt in this discipline, he has however not participated in any competition, so there is no way to assess his level other than watch him train.”

The next slide pictured Damian and Isaac together, Isaac seemingly teasing Damian about his height, because he was leaning on the Demon Brat with his head on top of him, a smug smile on his lips. Damian’s expression was as neutral as always, crunched underneath Isaac’s elbow (because there was not that much of a height difference, alright? So either Isaac had to be on his toes to put his head on top of Damian’s, or he pushed the later down a little), but his whole stance screamed trust. His shoulders were relaxed and his head was tilted to the side, listening to whatever the taller teen was saying. He seemingly didn’t give a damn about his surroundings, completely focused on Isaac. 

“When did you take that picture, Steph? I sure as hell didn’t see that on any camera feed, ‘cause if it was, I would’ve framed it and put it on my nightstand. Baby Bat like that is priceless.” Barbara asked, earning a hum of approbation of the whole group. Dick thought that, actually, he was going to ask for it later, because who knows Damian would do when he’ll discover this picture. Maybe burn it and destroy the hard drive. Steph smiled pensively and looked at them. “Honestly, it was a lot easier than I expected. This is where you see that Damian has changed. He wasn’t on guard, no scratch that, he had completely dropped his guard and I could take a picture from the rooftop of the school without him seeing me. I think I could’ve danced the Macarena naked, he wouldn’t have spotted me. The new dude is magic on him.”

She turned back to the slide and continued, “And here comes the friendship. I don’t know how it began, I have no trace of it anywhere, Isaac just came to the school about two months ago and he was seated next to Damian. And that’s how their friendship began, I think. I know Isaac draws, because Damian offered him aquarelle crayons and a new sketchbook for his birthday. He bought them with cash, certainly to avoid us finding anything, but I saw him stash them away in the Manor and we know that Damian has already everything he needs to draw, including aquarelle. Next day, Isaac has a whole new set of crayons and a big smile on his face.”

“Isaac has no social media account, doesn’t exist on Facebook, Instagram nor Deviantart. He only uses WhatsApp or an email address to talk to people. Speaking of which, aside from Damian or his sister, he has no real friend network, which leads to the next part of this presentation: his behavior.”

Another slide came in view, where you could see Isaac surrounded by people, but wasn’t looking at any of them. Stephanie held her arm out and pointed on Isaac’s face. “You can see him here. I watched that happen several times when I went out to investigate. Isaac makes people uneasy, aside from Damian. They talk to him, sure, but as soon as they’re finished, pfuit, they leave like someone is chasing them. At first I thought it was because Isaac’s being buddy-buddy with the most dangerous person of the school: our beloved brother, but it turns out it’s because of his behavior around others. When he speaks to them, he refuses to look at them in the eyes, I even saw him turn his head on purpose to avoid making contact with a teacher, who was clearly trying to meet his eyes. He’s like that with Damian too, but it doesn’t seem like that‘s bothering the brat. I didn’t pick on what he was discussing with the students you can see on the picture, but it seems like he said something that made everyone uneasy and this spread through the whole school. But the thing is, as soon as he thinks no one’s watching him, he stares at them. Like observing, assessing, taking notes on their weaknesses, something we would do when we work a case. What sure is, is that he doesn’t trust them and can’t make himself relax around them.”

Jason muttered, thinking it was low enough not to be heard, “And because he’s labelled as freak friend with a freak, he began to be bullied. What a big bunch of assholes.” But because they were bats, everyone heard it. Teenagers and kids were the worst when it came to new things, that made them step out of their comfort zone and accept that they had to think out of the box. So it wasn’t hard for them to associate new with bad or strange and react the cruel way. “Yeah, that’s exactly what happened, Jayjay”, Steph answered, “The kids waited for Damian to be gone, when we needed him to skip school to work on the shipment case with us in China, and the bullying started. Seemingly, because Isaac’s protection was out of the equation, they decided it was safe to push him around. I discovered it like Damian did when we came back. And it hasn’t stopped ever since.”

Steph began to enumerate, “Names, racism about his genetic background – called him a Mexican immigrant, thank Trump for that-, called him a freak. Then it came to physical bullying. His drawings disappeared. He was pushed around during breaks and his school stuff got missing before each class. And Damian didn’t react to any of it. So, at first I thought that he didn’t pick up on it, but he was trained by the best, so it was crossed even before I could write it down. Left only two options, either he didn’t care –which is _clearly_ not the case here- or Isaac asked him to do nothing. And Damian actually respected his wish. Question is why. Even the economic teacher saw it and asked Isaac if he wanted him to do anything, but seems like Isaac did the same number on him than on Damian.”

Dick tilted his head to the side, thoughtful of why Isaac would do such a thing. Damian was a protector. It was burned in his soul, a whole part of himself dedicated to protecting others from the monsters lurking in the dark. And if Isaac knew at little bit Damian –which was shown, that yes, he did- then he also should know that putting Damian in a position where all he could do was sit back and watch his friend suffer was absolutely _not_ on Damian’s agenda. By letting himself be hurt, Isaac was also hurting Damian. And that could end in blood if Damian snapped and proceeded to remove all threats. So it meant that Isaac had something to hide that was more important than his friendship and Damian’s feeling. Question was _what._

“You have an ID of the bullies?” Jason’s question rang through the air, promises of pain and tears following it like a shark on blood. All of them knew what Jay thought about abusing others, should it be bullying or assault. No second chances were given if he had the opportunity to them down for good. And no one was hurting his baby brother and getting away with it. That Isaac boy was also getting an earful if he could get his hands on him.

Bruce straightened up and looked at Jason in the eyes, “No guns Jason. They’re teenagers, not criminals. If we do this, we do this together.”

Stephanie whistled to get their attention back on her before a full blown argument about young criminality starting in kindergarten could develop and pulled out several pictures of students. “These are the recurrent bullies I saw approach Isaac. Note that all of them come from a wealthy family, so they think they’re superiors. Those impetuous fucks. So, beside the beat down we should give them, I suggest someone as a member of the Wayne family comes too, to do a little magic about bullies in school. So far, I know that only one teacher sticks to the new policy about bullying, the others close their eyes so long they are getting better paid.”

The tension grew in the room, before everyone exclaimed “SCHULTZ!” and put their finger on their nose at lightning speed. Bruce was left standing, blinking at this new game he didn’t know the rules of. Appendage still on snout, the rest of the room – aside from Alfred, because he is _too old and too respectable for that I’m afraid, young master-_ turned to him and smiled devilishly. “Looks like we have a winner. You’ll go, B.”, Dick stated, proud of himself.

Bruce groaned, wanting to whine at the game, because it was absolutely unfair. And because he also didn’t want to come to the school to put on a stupid act of Brucie waving pretty hair and batting eyelashes to talk about some school policy that they should _already_ have. Defeated, he nodded, only to be reward with a pat on the back by Jason, who was smiling widely at his despair. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”, the bastard whispered, before going back to Dick, cackling like a madman.

“If you want to converse with these goons with your fists rather than your mouth, then count me in.”

Damian declaration was welcomed with warm smiles, Jason’s grin growing even bigger. He knew that plotting to tackle down bad guys–should they be teen not even out of their diapers or grown ass individuals- would make Damian exit the darkness that was his room. Maybe the little fucker didn’t even reach it, and stayed in the stairway to listen. “Of course, Demon Brat. We were keeping a spot warm just for you. But…-“,He drawled, looking at Damian dead in the eyes, “If I can’t bring my guns, your katana stays in your room, along with all your weapons. Even the tea spoon you keep in your nightstand, Damian."

If looks could kill, Jason would’ve died a second time under Damian gaze. Geez, the scowl the teen was sporting was a sign of _take cover and pray for your safety_ , but Jason had a reputation of a death-dodger (well not so much because he died, but you get what he means, okay!) ad he would stick to it, especially if it meant to infuriate his little brother.

“Mistress and Masters, I believe it is time for patrol. I suggest we keep this file open for later and you go change into your nightwear.”

Alfred, always the savior of this family. Stephanie saved her file in Tim’s laptop, kissed his cheek and grabbed Cass by the hand to lead them both to the old clock in the library. One by one, the Batfamily went down the stairs into the Batcave, leaving Jason and Dick in the kitchen, finally alone. The look on Dick’s face let Jason three seconds before he was engulfed in an octopus like hug, Dick nesting his nose in the crook of his neck, breathing slowly.

“I missed you.”

Slowly, after being certain that no one would unfortunately stick their noses in the kitchen while a bonding moment was happening, Jason relaxed in Dick’s hold, letting himself go to extent of returning the hug. Normally, he would’ve done that in the intimacy of their room, but as Dick put it, he missed him too. Squeezing his boyfriend tight, he let him know what he was too shy to say aloud. At the smile on Dick’s face when Jason nuzzled his nose on the top of his head, he knew exactly what that physical response meant. Stepping back from the embrace, Jason took a breath before closing the door of the kitchen shut and grab a handful of Dick’s hair to pull him back. Enjoying how Dick’s eyes grew like saucer for a spare second, he then proceeded to kiss him senseless, a taste of what could come next if they would still have energy after patrol. Slamming him against the kitchen door, Dick happily followed in a contest of tongue and saliva exchange, taking long breaths before diving back in. But before it could get too out of pants, Jason decided to put a stop to it and started to tickle him in the side, causing him to stop nibbling at his throat in order to wriggle out of his grasp.

“As much as I want to have you under me in the best possible ways, I think we’ll have to wait a little more, Dickie bird.” The last part of his sentence was answered by a pout, showing that said Dick was as unhappy as him to see their other way of exhausting themselves fly out the window.

Dick whined, a high-pitched sound, sending waves directly to his crotch “Little Wing”, he spoke softly, licking at his jaw, “It has been _way_ too long. More than a month maybe, since we had some proper ‘we’-time. I’m getting crazy down there, and not the funny way.”

Damn. Dick was going to kill him if he didn’t stop looking at him like a child in front of a candy store. Or talk directly in his ear, with his freakin sex god like voice, for that matter. _Hungry_. Jason was getting images of sheets, moans and screams in flashes, tempting him. He already knew what the treat was like, that was why it was so hard to not give into the hot and wet paradise Dick’s voice was promising. Grabbing Dick’s wrists, he pulled them off his persona and gave Dick a last peck on the lips, regrets already nagging his libido, “I hate to rain on our parade, but you and I both know we have work to do. And don’t think you’re the only one with your pants on fire. The only thing I want right now, thanks to you, is to have you under me, and have my hands all over you to make you howl to the moon.”

Dick pupils dilated as Jason’s hands sneaked their way to his waist, gripping hard to make his point. He breathed in deep, trying to control his reaction, but Jason wasn’t finished. Pulling quickly Dick against him, he pressed him hard and leaned in his ear, nibbling at his earlobe, “Hell, if I wasn’t so scared that Alfred might find out and make us pay, I would’ve licked you like an ice cream right here and there. But not all wishes come true. If they did, I would’ve seen our beloved butler in PJ's at least once in my life.”

_What a great way to kill a mood._ Jason thought to himself proudly as Dick pulled off with look that seemed undecided between disgust and interest and made his way to the Batcave.

Everyone was waiting for them, changed from head to toe, and busy annoying Damian about his friend, while Bruce was looking at the camera feed of the Arkahm Asylum, checking if anyone escaped, _again_. Nothing tonight tripped any alarm, so it meant maybe a peaceful night for once. Maybe even check in early and have some fun before going to bed. A man could dream. Changing in a flash, without even ogling each other, they listened as Batman dispatched everyone.

“Nightwing, you take Blüdhaven and when you’re done, do a quick swoop in Red Robin’s area. No need for sour faces, Tim, I know you have the Titans on speed dial and they always need you for something, and even with your level of multitasking, even you can sometimes overlook something. And the devil lies in the details. Batgirl, you’re with me and Robin, South Side. Blackbat, Red Hood, you know your usual routes, just keep an eye open for any new drug lord, they are reports of a new Vertigo causing brain liquefaction in Crime Alley.”, before anyone could hop on their different means of locomotion he continued, “And look out for Silence.”

Jason rolled his eyes, throwing a leg over his bike, and put on his famous helmet, “Yeah, yeah, we know how to do our damn jobs, no need to repeat it every time. You sound like a broken record, Batdad.”

“You’re lucky in don’t decide to make sure you’re okay, Jason. Or else I would be 24/7 all over your ass. So watch your mouth with me, son.” Bruce’s voice rang like a promise through the cowl of the Bat suit. Dismissing like every advice Bruce might have given him in the past few years, Jason waved at his father figure and took off after Dick into the night, leaving the others to bite the dust. The two of them raced to the entrance of the Batcave, side to side, trying to flip the other off and make him loose his grip on the bike. Dick leaned in, being so close to Jason that he could’ve sit on his lap if he wanted, and clamped Jason’s brake while buttheading him to distract him. Feeling his back wire losing control, Jason had no other choice then to pull off, giving Dick the space he needed to jump the gap between the cave and the road. Adding a somersault on top of that and he left Jason way behind, waving.

“Look at them. Trying to be so smooth, but that’s not how you hide the fact that you’re pining for each other, is it?” Stephanie drawled, observing Jason throwing his arms in the air, muttering profanities about Dickie birds crawling up his ass and biting hard before kicking his feet of the ground and follow Dick at dead speed, a gigantic grin never leaving his face – not that the others could see that, but they knew better than to trust his face alone to see his actual emotions-. He was happy. Right here, right now, chasing goons on a beautiful bike and an awesome outfit, alongside his boyfriend and his family, there was no place he rather wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, on my computer it looked wayyyyy longer, but hey, I think perceptions can be falsed, so no biggie. As you read in the tags, Dick and Jason are already in a relationship when the third party comes in. Dunno if ya like, don't care.  
> Have a nice day!  
> Although it's night in my timeframe.  
> (Do you say timeframe? I don't know...)  
> Anyway, I'll shut up.  
> I mean I'll stop writing.


	4. Hör auf zu grinsen wie ein Honigkuchenpferd!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Leute! Lange nicht gesehen! 
> 
> -wowow, t'arrête ton char de suite, s'il te plait. ça fait même pas dix minutes que tu viens de mettre en ligne le chapitre 3, donc on se calme. 
> 
> Wade, warum sprichst du französisch? Du bist Kanadier, klar, aber die englische Seite, oder? oder vielleicht bist du nicht Mal  
> den realen Wade... 
> 
> -Nan, je suis pas un ovni, c'est juste ton cerveau qui déconne. Trop de langue pour pas assez de place. *Heheh* You get it? 
> 
> Ja, hatte seit langem verstanden, dass du 'ne Pervers bist, mit einem fragwürgigen Humor.
> 
> \- *GASP*, tu me blesses mortellement auteure! 
> 
> Jajajajaja, geh jammer woanders Wade, ich hab was anders zu tun. 
> 
> -Comme quoi? T'inventer une vie sociale?
> 
> ..... 
> 
> -Wade: 1, Autorin :0. 
> 
> Teaser:  
> "the world went.......BOOOM"

Patrol went smoothly, as expected when Bruce found nothing worth the big guns on his Batcomputer. No Joker roaming the streets, but a couple of muggers stealing in order to survive. Dick stayed on the rooftops after stopping some dealers, jumping from one to another in a big game of parkour. He never felt more at piece but when he was free falling, seconds away from missing the catch. He lived for the uncertainty, the infinite outcomes of that moment. Just the possibility of letting himself fall thrilled him, because it meant that it was his choice alone, as a way to go. He was too skilled to make a mistake in firing his zip line, even riding the blood loss and concussion train, B made sure of that during training. If a mistake happened and he ended up falling, then it wouldn’t be a mistake at all, it would be his choice. And Dick always wondered for a millisecond what today’s outcome would be. Jumping from the WE rooftop, he let himself fall with his arms wide open before retracting them and rolling as soon as his feet met the concrete on the next roof. Coming to a halt at the edge of the TV line, he hit his com, “Red Robin, coming in your area, fill me in.”

The com buzzed, signalling that Tim had received his message, and soon a voice answered, “okay, D, since B thinks I need a babysitter, you can patrol my side too. I’m knees deep in the mess Red Hood made yesterday, he shot a guy in the hip to question him and that dude had enough voice left to warn the whole gang that we were coming, so I’ll leave patrolling up to you. Efficient, my ass. How can I have answers if they hide like mice waiting for the cat to go and then start dancing?!”

“Hey! If I didn’t shoot that guy, it would’ve been your beacon that would’ve been holed! Idiot though that turning your back on someone while there’s a shooting happening was a good idea. So don’t go all mighty on me, part of this is also your fault.” Red Hood’s voice boomed in the com, making Dick wince, knowing what that provocation would begin.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“How come it’s _my_ fault?! You decided to barge in, guns blazing, with the only form of plan to catch the head of the organisation –which is called Utopia, by the way. Name of a Barbie film or a child series, seriously- and you expect me to multitask into hacking my way in, watch your six _and_ watch myself? One out the three was a surplus, clearly.” Tim’s voice took a high-pitched tune, getting more and more sarcastic by the second.

Jason took breath and was about to shout some insults absolutely not okay for some members of the family, _Bruce, cover your ears,_ so Dick decided to intervene –again- before they could continue to throw profanities at each other’s face. “No need to get riled up, alright? I’ll take care of T’s perimeter, is there anything else before I begin?”

“Actually, Grayson, there is. Father, Batgirl and I are still at the docks and it seems that something else was behind the shipment of last night. We are currently at the scene as I speak, and I think we won’t be done before dawn. So if you are done with Red Robin’s patrol, maybe you can start Batman and mine’s one.

Dick sighed at the amount of work that had just been dumped on him, already seeing himself with astronomical bags under his eyes and none whatsoever ability to concentrate tomorrow for work. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temple, figuring what best route it was to take to go from point A to B. His com buzzed, signalling an income from Red Hood.

“Actually, I’m done in my perimeter as well, and seeing where you are, D, it’s better if you take Demon’s Brat route and I’ll take care of mister Grumpy over there.”

Wondering when the hell did Jason put a tracker in his suit, Dick turned back to Damian’s side of the city and brusquely realised, if not a bit devilishly, that Dami’s new patrol route engulfed also Isaac’s home. And he, as any normal older sibling, had the opportunity to meet Dami’s friend and embarrass him in front of Isaac, with silly stories and compromising photos –not that would compromise Damian’s identity, but Robin had also some funny stories to tell-. He always had his phone on himself especially for those occasions to fill the Blackmail files. Beginning patrol with renewed energy, he jumped from rooftop to rooftop humming, chanting aloud as he pounced quite harshly in drug dealers and kicking them in rhythm. Nobody picked on his sudden good mood, all of them still busy and thinking that he had maybe found a new bakery opened during sleep hours, until…

“Shit.”, was all Damian said before Dick phone started to buzz and he knew that Damian was trying to access his GPS. Laughing aloud, and startling some late walkers, who saw a grown man in a tight-ass-fuck suit barking a laugh with his legs dangling on the edge of a rooftop, Dick shut his phone off and hit his little brother on the coms, his mood brightening even more now that he knew his bro knew that he knew and that the little sucker couldn’t do anything about it.

“I’m already in front of the window, Little D, you can’t stop me now.”

“Grayson, I swear to Allah, if you engage with…You-know-who, I will destroy you. _Happily._ ”

“Aaaah, Harry Potter, Demon Brat? That’s a new low. You that much infatuated by your new little friend –who’s taller than you, by the way, eat your Brussel sprouts- that you start calling him names?”

“Beware, Jason,” Steph’s voice rang in the comm, a shit eating grin audible, “if you make him angry, he’ll pull out his magic wand, take off on his mighty dragon and fry your sorry ass. He then, like any knight in shining armor, will save his beautiful prince by slaughtering the evil witch with the escrima sticks lurking at his window. And then LONG LIVES THE BATMEN KINGDOM!!!”

And the two then cackled like the idiots they were. Dick heard a definite klick of a weapon being draw and a whoosh of wind with Stephanie taunting Damian to actually catch her and stop snipping her hair with his enormous tooth-picker.

“Batgirl, Hood, will you two shut up?!! I’m trying to concentrate here! I get that annoying Robin is the most fun, but I’m literally knees deep in the shit and trying to pick a lock, so too many of my senses are already used to be anymore loaded with you two screaming in the coms!”

“Batgirl, Hood, quiet. Red Robin, language. Nightwing, keep watching.” As straightforward as ever, Cass. Surprisingly, he would’ve thought that Bruce would’ve snapped way earlier, but it seemed that Cass was clearly interested in the Dick-watching-the-window sequel.

Smiling at his family shenanigans, Dick redirected his gaze on the apartment in front of him. From his spot, he couldn’t make out anything, the lights not being on in the rooms. It was probably natural, seeing that it was 2 AM, but Dick wouldn’t know, normalcy not really being his forte. Nothing was moving, the occupants already asleep. He creeped closer and stood underneath the window, eyeing for an entrance that wouldn’t make him pick a lock or destroy any furniture. Peeking, with his hands on the margin and only the top of his head sticking out, he looked inside to see if any movements were noticeable. Leaning only his finger strength to keep him away from falling and end up like a blue and bloody pizza on the concrete twenty feet later, he hauled himself up to immediately throw himself back down as his nightvision lenses finally picked on something. Someone was in the room, which clearly was the living room and kitchen.

Dick couldn’t have seen them before, because the walls were blocking the IRs and part of the light coming in the room, but now he was stuck on a twenty feet tall building, with his only fingers –who were starting to cramp, bit by bit- as a life line. Great, he always loved a challenge. Hitting the coms by smashing the side of his head against his shoulder, he whispered hastily, “Little D, is Isaac’s sister small?”

“She is, yes. Smaller then me even, despite being around 28. Why?”

“I think she’s awake, I can hear someone moving in the kitchen, but no lights are on right now. I could only make a figure through my lenses and she’s definitely smaller than Isaac.”

Actually, he also could smell coffee, and a good brand. And another smell, sweeter and reminding him of childhood memories, - _chocolate?_ was floating along. Wondering who in their right mind would make coffee at such an hour and completely in the dark, he looked again to see the silhouette stretch and yawn, picking up one mug and drinking it in one go, like a shot. Another one was left on the counter, with a note stuck on it. Isaac’s sister then turned back and went to her room, not having lit up the room and corridor once. Dick waited for another twenty minutes, making sure no one was waking up again and entered, trying to satisfy his curiosity since Damian refused to share all the data he had collected during his first sweep.

He hauled himself up and picked the window lock, entering the room in one swift movement, without bumping in any furniture. Making sure his feet and movements were silent, he strode in the room, taking in the sofa with the sweater hanging miserably like a forgotten sock, the multiple music instruments in the corners of the room. There was even an Ocarina precariously placed on the kitchen sink, looking like it would only take a single wrong breath of air to tip it over. The coffee mug was still steaming, and Dick was growing more curious.

“Hey, anyone knowing why someone would leave a steaming coffee on the counter at 2 AM, with a note on it? Before going back to bed?”

“Maybe it is for Isaac, Grayson. She barely sees him, so maybe it is an ‘affectionate’ gesture, as you put it.” Maybe it was, but Isaac would have to reheat it before drinking it.

“Or she knows you’re here and offering it a peace sign.” Dick grew tense as Stephanie exposed that theory. It would mean that Isaac’s sister had spotted him before entering the room and would raise the question _how_ she did that. “What’s written on the note?”

Ah, Tim was following the whole action too.

Getting closer to the counter, Dick took the note and read it aloud, deciphering wobbly chicken scratches, more confused than ever. “Look on the ceiling, asshat?” Quickly looking up, still wondering for whom that note might be addressed to, he analysed the ceiling through his lenses. Nothing, a scrape of tape hanging up here and there, but nothing worth looking up in his opinion. Then he felt it.

The presence behind him. The darkness was getting filled behind him, meaning someone was approaching. Dick relaxed his shoulders and let his arms fall to his sides, waiting for the incomer, _Isaac’s sis obviously,_ to manifest themselves, berating himself for being so cocky that he didn’t think of her trapping him in her home, her _territory_. She didn’t budge and Dick felt sweat roll down his spine, in cold droplets. The whole room reeked of promise of violence, mostly coming from her and Dick was starting to fear for his beacon. Cornered predators were the deadliest and he had truly cornered her, by intruding her home and being so near her brother. She was just reacting to his intrusion, so he couldn’t attack her, it wouldn’t be right for him to hurt her because she only violently reacted to him being a stranger in her living room in the middle of the night. Moving his hands up in the air, to show that his weapons were stashed in their holsters, he spoke softly, to avoid startling her. “I am going to move around. I’m not here to threaten you nor your brother, so please don’t shoot me.”

Usually, people who caught him in their house would put him at the other end of their firearm, so asking to not shoot was a necessary evil, even though he didn’t hear the hammer of the weapon being pulled.

Not receiving a response, he decided to turn around regardless, knowing that if things went downhill, his family – who currently were holding their breaths- would barge in, guns and Batarangs blazing. Blinking, he saw nothing when Isaac’s sister moved. One moment she was crouched on the floor, hands and feet on the carpet, with her head straight up, the other Dick felt a mass jump on him and he hit his head against the counter with the weight of his attacker, himself, and their speed combined. Pain flared through his skull as a tiny hand grabbed a handful of hair and pulled to throw him on the floor and hold him down.

 _She thought this through and you’re an idiot,_ he chastised himself for letting himself be leaded to a trap. The weight was back, this time on his stomach and thighs as she sat on him, holding his arms against his side with her legs and putting a _very_ sharp kitchen knife on his throat.

Ah, that was why there was no gun.

Opening an eye, he saw a beautiful creature sitting on him, eyes unfocused but teeth bared, with her other hand gripping the counter. She looked puzzled and amused underneath all the pointy teeth and sharp objects, and was definitely pressing against him harder than necessary. Her buzz cut wasn’t frazzled –well, duh, it’s a buzz cut, so too short to even frazzle- but her clothes were all messed up. Her leggings were riding low on her hips and her sweater looked worse for wear, with holes and the neck completely destroyed, like some little animal had chewed on it too many times.

“WOwowowoow, before you try to gank me, I have to say you are truly beautiful.” He spoke hastily, turning off his brain to mouth filter.

“I’m sorry??!?!” Tim’s voice rang through the com, disbelief and sarcasm dripping and the rest of the family giggled, even Bruce stifled a laugh. Dick closed his eyes as he remembered they were still listening. 

“Listen to him. Not capable of controlling his mouth when anyone musters the genital glands to throw him down and dominate him. Your flesh is weak, Dickiebird.”, Jason drawled, perfectly amused that some female civilian had his boyfriend pinned on the floor. Hell, it was beginning to be interesting. 

Banter and compliments were always a good way to distract your enemy, even more when you meant it. Wriggling as smoothly as possible, Dick tried to reach his sticks as many emotions passed on her face, going from pure surprise to end in a snort. She tightened her grip on his arms with an amused laugh and pressed the knife further in his throat, stopping effectively the mission to recuperate his sticks. She however didn’t bring her face any closer to his, much to his dismay, because he couldn’t headbutt her to get out of her grasp. He couldn’t even get up, she was sitting on his gravity centre and using her hand on the counter to press herself down on him. He was left with her crunching slowly his ribcage and he couldn’t even bring himself to care, trying to find another way to get out without hurting her and himself along the way. Maybe if she stated that he was intruding, or just asked him why he was here in the first place, then he could explain and move without using Bats ability, but no. She didn’t say anything, letting him marinate in his own juice and try to repress a very annoying biological reaction to the full body contact on his lower part.

Flashing her with his ten-million-Watt smile, which she couldn’t see because it was dark, but A+ for effort, he wrapped his voice with honey and tried a second time, not sure of what reaction he could expect, “I have to say, Lady, you got me on my knees with your good looks. And now you woo me with the strategy you pulled up to get me down. But normally, before people start jumping me, we go on a date and hit first and second base and we surely don’t end fully clothed –like what’s happening now- if you know what I me-…”

Snickers could be heard in the com, his family listening to him dig his own grave.

“You talk too much.”

 _My God_ , her voice. He stopped dead in his rant about her brainpower when the first syllables exited her mouth. It was like a growl coming from the savannah, were the lioness howl to signal the start of the hunt. It was raw from sleep, but also of power and Dick could only listen, like a snake would follow the music of the charmer. Her voice wasn’t low, but it held a promise like a whisper that if he continued to talk, shit would happen and not the good kind. The British accent was thick, Downtown Abbey thick and Dick smiled at his own analogy.

“Here’s how you’re going to play this. You stop trying to throw me off with that technique, answer my question and I’ll offer you the coffee that was meant for you.” She tilted her head to the side, “in a civilian way.”

So the coffee was for him then, he thought, eyebrows slowly raising. Then why attack him and not just talk to him if she knew in the first place he was here? And mainly, how did she even know he was here?

“Or you try to bullshit me, throw me off, whatever and the _very hot_ coffee will still be offered, but you’ll end up like Two-Face this time, third burn kind. Electrocuting me will only lead to me dropping the mug, so don’t even try it. In fact, stop struggling, I like having you like that. So, deal?”

Ooooh, great, she was flirting with him. Now he had to concentrate even more to get himself under control. It was the same effect when Jay talked to him in his ear very slowly, detailing what the next steps would be and promised heaven on a fluffy pillow. He was sure that if she tried to do that, he would come in his pants like a damn teenager. In fact, he thought that Little D might have done that one time, when he came back home all red in the face and walking funny, but refused to say why his underwear disappeared after swim class and….

The hand that was previously gripping the counter slapped against his mouth, fingers sneaking their way in and holding his tongue in a sloppy but deathly hold. She waited ten seconds before releasing him and returned to her previous posture. Through his night vision lenses, he could see that her face was a bright green, so it meant that she was tomato red, and she was having difficulties to hold back a laugh or bolt in a corner to cringe. Whatever she would prefer. An angel passed, and realisation hit Dick like a truck, making him want to disappear in a hole.

“I said that aloud, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” The chorus of voice answered through the com, before she could open her mouth, some way more excited than others, adding to his embarrassment. She snorted, the sound perfectly inelegant.

“Oh my gods, I didn’t think that a simple comment would make you spin so much in your head. Don’t think too much, you’ll give yourself whiplash. Now, are you done being an embarrassing human being, or should be worried you might pull out some bunnies out of your pants and begin to sing some Celine Dion?”, shifting in her seat, she brought him back to reality, with her still using him as her personal cushion and his body appreciating every second of it. Her voice showed she was completely embarrassed, but her body language said otherwise, with her tensed shoulders and cramped fingers on the knife. She wasn’t trusting him to let her grip on him go.

“Wow, that’s very specific, Lady, did you have an experience like that? And no, I like to make people cringe, and also no, ‘cause my pants are a little tight for bunnies to fit in. You should know, you’re sitting on me.”

Redirection is also good when there’s no option left, and Dick wasn’t ready to have his family barge in to take pictures for the posterity and maybe save his ass. Shit, Barbara must already have the footage from the camera directly angled to the kitchen window. He wasn’t going to live it down.

“Smartass. Actually, it was more elephant than bunnies and a whole lot more of Elvis Presley. What are you doing here? And who are you to afford a Kevlar reinforced suit, escrima sticks charged with electricity and Hell knows what in your belt? I bet you could build a milk shaker with the tools you carry with you.”

Back to business, the tone went deadly serious in a matter of seconds, even though the banter was still there, snarky comments coming easy on her tongue, and the knife made its presence clearer on his throat. Adopting a stance as relaxed as possible, Dick eased a smile and tried to smooth things.

“Um… I’m Nightwing….” No recognition passed on her face, not even a twitch. “The vigilante teaming up with Batman and his associes? The Batfamily?” At the mention of Batman, she frowned then nodded her head, like someone had turned on the lights in that brain of hers.

“So you’re part of Batman’s clan. Alright, I can roll with that. What are you doing here?”

“You’re just going to believe me, just like that?” Dick asked, disbelieving. If she trusted stranger that easily, then problems would get soon in her way. But if she was trying to play him again, then either way, she was going to have problems.

“Sure. You smell like blood and gunpowder, even though you’re not carrying one right now. So it means that you were close to someone using one, and it seems that one of your _team_ , as you call it, is very famous for his shooting skills. Second clue, your musculature.” She grinded against him to get her point across, making him tense his abdominal muscles and thighs. “You have the musculature of a trained soldier. And such soldiers are not roaming around in the streets, certainly not so near Crime Alley. Or they’re mercenaries. But mercenaries, except for one, don’t run around in spandex.”

She pouted and frowned, exaggerating her expression, she then snapped her fingers, Dick almost expected her to scream “Eureka!”, before turning back at him and leaning slightly forward, “Conclusion, you are privately trained and use those skills almost every night, that way you are kept sharp, but you’re no paid assassin. So your identity as you say it is, is not that unbelievable.” Sighing of relief now that she recognised him through Batman, thanking for once the attention the media gave them, he flinched when her nails clacked against the counter. “BUT- It doesn’t answer the question why. Mind to explain?” Her head was tilted again, on the right side, she looked like a damn curious puppy. Still sitting on him. 

“You’re new here.” What a half-truth to serve, but anything was better than saying _I wanted to get to know your brother. He’s a friend of mine._ She would skin him alive for paedophilia before he could explain himself.

“And?”

“And it means that we- as in we the vigilante team- keep a certain track of the new arriving in town, weighing if they could be a threat to the civilians here or not. And you’re new.”

“And I could be a threat. Geez, I’m being stalked by vigilantes in onesies’.”

“Looking at the knife, I’ll say you are a threat, but only if pissed off. Am I wrong?” Dick preferred to leave the stylish part of her sentence alone, not wanting to be at the end of another sarcastic comment and finish with a more bruised ego.

“Not really. But, if you say that Drarry doesn’t exist in the books, then I will end you without mercy.”

“What the..- Anyway, are you pissed off right now?”

“You didn’t talk about Sirius’ relationship with Lupin too, so I’m good. For now.”

Keeping his mouth shut for about ten seconds, completely lost about what the freaking hell she was talking about, Dick was about to speak when she stood up and grabbed him by the arm to haul him up. Dick felt his eyebrows hit his hairline as she let him go and shook herself, like she hadn’t helped a vigilante in her _living room_ to stand and treated it like it was any other day.

She yawned, an enormous one -he could see the inside of her throat with that one- and stretched. Taking a step back, she then put her hands behind her and started to do make circles with her left foot. “So, Nightwing. Am I a threat to Gotham?” She was the image of innocence, with her head bowed slightly and her childish demeanor, but Dick wasn’t stupid and wouldn’t fall for it twice. After all, the knife was still in her hand.

Inhaling brusquely, she turned around to step towards the corridor leading to her room and called him behind her back. “Take your time, it’s not like I have work tomorrow. Now that I know your no threat for my brother and I, I’ll leave you to it.” Turning around to give him a wave of her hand, she blew him a kiss, “And since some of us have a day job and need beauty sleep, I’ll let you be a big boy and draw one to answer no, or draw two for yes. If you have any questions, please write them down on the sticker and leave them on the counter, I’ll read them in the morning. I’m going to bed, kiss you goodnight.”

And like that, she was gone. And he was left with a ton of questions, starting with _I forgot to ask her for her NAME!_ and ending with _why the hell did she leave the lights out the whole time?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 out babe!!!  
> I just needed to play on the languages for a short while,so I took it out on you, sorry if you don't speak French or German.  
> If you want me to translate it, sure. But there will be some jokes that won't be understandable maybe. 
> 
> Anyhow, Waddaya think of Isaac' sis?  
> Girl, is it strange to say that I based some of her traits on mine? Isn't that a bit narcissic? I work with what I have, and also,it's narcissic to post something for people to read it and appreciate. Makes you feel important.  
> But hey, unless I only do it for you -which is a big nono, btw- we're good.


	5. thou shall try to live on their moral compass, but thou shall not bite the dust like a idiot because of it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -When.
> 
> Uhmmm... Soon? Like real soon. Please don't resign and give your memebership card back, Wade, I promise you it's going to happen soon. 
> 
> \- You said that last time, asshole. And the time before that. Beware, my patience had it's limit. 
> 
> Wow, okay, drop the mafiosi act, please, we both know you don't have enough hair to grow a moustache. 
> 
> -But I have the guns for it. 
> 
> Alright, alright, I move my ass and upload the chapter. Chill out dude.
> 
> Teaser: 
> 
> "She didn't think twice when she spoted him. She just lunged, consequences be damned."

“Nightwing, we have incoming.”, a grunt followed, some shuffle and gunshots in the background.

“What kind, B? You’ll have to be more specific.” He put the note back on the counter and exited by the window, promising himself to come back to hear those answers –completely forgetting about the coffee along the way-. Stepping out of the apartment, the wind slapped him in the face and he felt his junk retreat back in its socket because of the cold. Maybe too much information, but eh, who were them to judge his thoughts honestly? Mother nature had her way to help him not to end impotent or freeze to death and he was rather thanking her for those contingencies.

“Eleven armed persons, placed in every corners and firing at us. Grayson, they trapped us in the building where the documents were, I seriously think they used the information as bait.” A punch, and a loud _thud_ , Damian had been probably thrown against something, likely Stephanie getting him behind her to give him time to analyse the situation and fill them in without missing something in the heat of the battle.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Always a big mouth, Jason. “Ya have anythin’ else ta say, Demon Brat?”

Silence at the other end of the line, like Damian was considering the pros and the cons at giving that piece of information away. A sigh came from Jason’s side, and Dick could _hear_ him roll his eyes at their brother antics. Really, his ragged breath was _loud_ enough to be heard.

“Alright Dami, where da ya need a getie better smooch?” Jay voice rang with a no bullshit tone and he could hear Damian huff, clearly stating that these intimidation techniques would not work. But luckily he wasn’t alone and you could count on Steph to throw him under the brother shaped like bus.

“He got shot in the shoulder, the bullet only graced the shoulder blade, thank fuck, but he’s losing blood fast. And he got thrown across the room like an angry potato sack. So maybe ribs cracked, concussion or whatever.” Damian huffed in the background, saying that he was way heavier than a potato sack, and therefore her analogies were out of date. Without disrupting the rhythm of her fight, Steph continued, on a more serious tone, “B… Is Batman all the way into Batland, all cape and scary voice, but he’s got a concussion and some grade A asshole got under his guard and jammed him with a hunting knife. So the wound is pretty deep. Some other bruises, but those are the normal rigmarole.” Dick smiled as she left the most important part of her report out and decided to cut her com to concentrate back on her fight. Hitting his com to get Damian on private, he asked, “How’s she?”

Damian, turns out, had no problem to spill the beans on his sisters’ state now that she outed him first, “She has had the worst of all of us. She entered the room first and got turned into a target practice. Her left leg is injured and she got hit square in the chest point blank, but her armor deflected the bullet. But broken sternum it is. She’s still fighting.” His last sentence grew more concerned with the unspoken _not for long_.

“We’re already on our way.”

Dick spotted Jason on the neighboring roof and hurried to the fight scene in a hushed silence, both too concerned about their family to talk. Jumping, catching themselves without stopping, Dick’s shoulders hurt as they came to the dock, his back tense of anticipation for a good fight. He honestly wondered why he went out every night with his family, to risk his skin and theirs’ too. Did seeing Jason, Damian or Bruce die one time wasn’t enough already? _Actually, now that you think about it, damn people had the habit of dying in his near vicinity. And come back to life._ He was staring to think that his family was a spandex clad imitation of the Winchester family, with all the self-sacrificial and saving the world from mind-blowing menaces thing. And the worst of it all is that he got up every morning and asked for more. 

Jason patted him on the arm, focusing him back to the matter at hand. Dick didn’t need to see his face to know that he was trying to reassure him, in his own weird way, making sure that his boyfriend wasn’t hopping on the guilt and panic attack train just yet and become a giant puddle of useless big brother worries.

The sound guided them more than Damian tracker. It was like the Triade had decided to startle awake all Gotham with the use of their rifles and explosions, making it sound very apocalyptic. Knowing the Gothamites, they had already taken cover and helped get everyone out of the burning area. Daily life threatening situations were a good motivation to build up teamwork. Buildings around the docks were on fire, popping in a firework manner, even synchronised. Jason hummed ‘Pomp and Circumstance’ and Dick would’ve stayed put to watch the colors spray in the sky, if it hadn’t mean that the explosions were controlled and therefore perfectly criminal.

“Alrigh’, we are they in this shitshow?”

Dick was asking himself the same. But Murphy’s law never failing them, he figured that they were probably in the biggest fire of them all, just because it would an absolute pain in the backside to drag them out. Pointing the biggest incendiary of the area, he signed for Jason to investigate the building while Dick himself would search for the remaining civilians in the area. With a curt nod, Jason saw Dick send him a quick kiss, accepting the strategy, seeing that he was the only one with a gas mask incorporated. Taking a big breath –he was pretty sure he would need all the oxygen available- to distend his lungs, but also to calm his nerves, he hit his com. “Fill me in, Belzeebrat.”

“Very funny, Walking Dead.” The snarky answer fused, making him chuckle. His brother was still conscious, so it meant he wasn’t alone on this rescue mission. “We are on the thirteenth floor, near the windows, South side. We can’t escape through airborne because there is unconscious enemies we need to save –thanks to Batman’s idea of redemption- and we’re getting slowly surrounded by the flames. The explosions started the moment they saw we were winning.”

“Any opponents left?”

“Yes. Some more, six exactly, entered the building when they set the bombs to explode. They are dedicated to kill us and will not stop. They’re ready to die in flames with us.”

 _Great, Chinese kamikazes. Yeay to cultural exchange._ Wanting to pinch the bridge of his nose, or punch something to mark his annoyance about the suicidal lapdogs of the Triade, preferably them, Jason took position and jumped, smashing the window. He landed in the burning hell that was the twelfth floor, rolling, and drew his weapon as his feet hit the already burning carpet, even before his world stopped turning. The smell of the smoke was overwhelming, even through his mask. The flames were lurking at his feet and spread on the whole floor, getting closer to the floor above through the wood on the walls.

Because of the smoke, it was hard to discern anything. Shadows were flickering everywhere and he had to adjust his lenses to prevent ending blind because of the luminosity. Going from the complete darkness of the city to the recreation of the Bonfire of San Juan with a building was a toll on the eyes, especially for a bat. Jason made his way to the stairs, meeting Bag Guy #1 passed out against the guardrail, a tiny footprint marking his cheek. Recognising Stephanie’s handiwork, he hauled #1 in a fireman’s carry and made his way back to the window, repressing his urge to put a bullet between the unconscious guy’s eyes for trying to transform his family into human parmesan, if the INSAS MK-1 lying in the corner was any indication. No giving two shits about #1 comfort, he dropped him on the roof he had jumped from to enter the building and left him there. For him, it was enough. He said he didn’t kill anymore, but it didn’t mean he would be working his ass off to get the A-grade assholes trying to murder their asses get their ass back home. 

There was to many asses in one sentence, Jason was getting dizzy.

The smoke only got heavier when he climbed the stairs, the fire spreading along, devoring everything on its path. By the law of physics, Jason knew he had little time to help his family before the whole building ended on fire. If the fire only started at the bottom, that it. But clearly, the Triade was not taking chances as he spotted another combustion furnace on the other building. He reached the end of the stairs and slammed into Damian as he opened the door, the younger one carrying Bad Guy #2 like a potato sack. It was almost comical to see this growing teenager, all in weirdly long limbs for a still short body carrying an adult twice his size and surely weight – maybe not weight, ‘cause y’know, the stereotypes of asiatics is that a simple breeze can make them fly- like it was nothing.

But Jason knew better and took #2 off Robin’s back, and slapped his hand as Damian reached to try and get his dead weight back. The kid was injured, for Fuck’s sake, on the _shoulder._

“Don’t pout, Baby Bat. I’ll get this ‘ne out while ya search fer the others. Where’s Big Bat ‘nd Blondie Bat?”

“Fatgirl took two of them that were conscious enough and dragged them out in the alley. Interrogation purposes. Batman is finishing the others off.”

Hearing that Stephanie was out was a relief. One less to worry about if shit went sideways. And she could handle an interrogation, even with a broken sternum. The Miss Sunshine was deadly if family and danger got too close for her own liking.

Spotting Batman emerging from the smoke, he clasped a hand on Robin’s shoulder – the uninjured one, he’s not _that_ much of an asshole. Ok, maybe he is, but he knows how a bitch those injuries can be, and angering the Demon Spawn by pressing the wrong buttons was not how he wanted to die - and shooed him off. Readjusting the weight on his shoulders, he flipped B a sign and took down the stairs, carefully stepping a foot in front of the other with all the smoke. #2 began to cough and choke, surely leaving traces of drool on his favorite leather jacket –Jason was going to murder him later if he made it out alive- indicating him that they were running out of time. Dropping like the scumbag he was, Jason left #2 next to #1 and made his way to the thirteenth floor by the outside, trusting that the fire hadn’t got to the inner structure and weaken the whole building yet, the blaze having only started minutes ago.

He tapped the glass on his way up, catching B’s attention. Because of the fire, the comms were useless, voice undiscernible from the cracking of the flames, but B managed to get his point across by signing _dropped them, safe_ and _have a way out_. Being now sure that everybody was safe in some way, he let go of the fire escape and jumped into the night, firing his zip line at the last second just because he could. Landing on the roof alongside the burning building, he stepped on the two unconscious baddies to wake them up –genital parts were a wonderful place to crunch if someone had alarm clock problems, remember that- and his comm came finally back to life now that the buzzing and cracking from the fire was fading away.

Unfortunately, it came back to life with Steph and _very_ bad news.

“The explosions on surface were just a lure. They bet on the fact that we would go out of our way to save their goons and lose time.” Her voice was controlled but her breath laboured, her injuries taking a serious toll on her.

“Your _point?!”_ , ooouh, Damian was riding the pain train too, if the shortage of his patience was anything to go by. And the actual loss of his neurons for him not to guess even a little the next part of Steph’s report.

“The blasts and the fire didn’t attack the structure of the buildings. They’re just burning, and it won’t take much to stop the blaze in the whole neighborhood. However, the two kamikazes I picked up said other bombs are set up to send the district to Jupiter. And us with it. “

“Batman and Nightwing are already on the move, but there’s too many of it. Red Robin closing in.” Tim helpfully brought in, closing Damian’s mouth for the time being.

Well shit. The Triade wasn’t kidding when they wanted them gone. If those bombs exploded, it would mean a gigantic loss of money to rebuild the docks and thousands civilians would end up without a roof on their head. That would only increase the criminality in the city, Gotham not being able to welcome the new homeless in shelters –hell, she couldn’t welcome the ones already homeless, Jason thought-. More than a loss of vigilantes that worked as a Band-Aid to contain Gotham’s scum in one place, it would mean an economic catastrophe and financial instability, caused by a social and political case. And desperation could lead people to make bad choices and worse decisions. Jason huffed when it all clicked in place.

The Triade wanted to a have a free access to the American continent, and what better place to start then the city with the highest criminal rate? With the Batfam and extensions gone, Commissar Gordon taken down too, the road would be almost free from obstacles, the political and economic instability only insuring that people would open their door to welcome them or even work for them.

Jason resisted to the urge to roll his eyes, because taking bad guys with a taking over the world kind of plan was their Tuesday night out. Without losing time, he jumped from the roof, landed on the concrete and leaped for the entrance door of the building. His leather jacket made a floppy sound as he discarded it in his run. He was _not_ letting his favorite jacket, a gift from Kory and Roy, disappear in the flames. That was a big no-no, and Roy would skin him alive if he treated his jacket with less respect than his guns. It had resisted the heat in the first building, but he wasn’t going to push his luck by taking it in a _gonna explode any seconds_ area. 

“Lemme guess, they placed them ‘n the basements of all the buildings on each corner of the district.”

“Yup. At every cardinal point, and the centre of the docks. Like the building you’ll be entering, the basement’s a parking tho. Explosion due in 7 min.” Tim piped in. His wrist computer biped, data flooding in. Details of fabrication, trigger responses and blueprints guiding him through the disarming of the piece of shit without making it blow up in his pretty face. A complete map of the basement followed.

“All civilians of the area have evacuated, but if this blows up, there _will_ be casualties. Batman and Demon Brat are South Side, I’m taking care of the North. Batgirl filled me before your comm went back online, East and West are done. From the ones I encountered, two single bombs are normally on the first subfloor.” Tim continued, before adding with a smug voice, “You have a kiss from Dick for good luck. And don’t die again, that would be troublesome.”, because he was a little shit.

“Fuck ya, Replacement.” Concise, clear. Jason was damn proud of his comeback. Not that he was embarrassed by Tim’s comment – _absolutely not_ , how could anyone think that?- and that needed a well-deserved insult. Just sibling love, he guessed.

A grumble answered, but he couldn’t pick his brother on it, having entered the furnace. Crouching down to not be bothered by the smoke, Jason reached the door leading to the inferior floors and began to climb down the stairs. He entered the first floor, and made sure to leave the door open, not wanting to end asphyxiated. The fire couldn’t have spread to the lower floors, made of concrete, but it didn’t mean it didn’t syphon all the oxygen available before dying. The smell of melted plastic welcomed him, and he saw what was once beautiful Camaros lying in a puddle of liquefied tires and hot brakes. His heart swelling for the pieces of art destroyed, he checked the entire floor.

Nothing.

 _Well, that can’t be good_.

Jason dreaded to go any further in the parking, because the explosion might kill him by absorbing the oxygen at the detonation, or it could crumble on his ass and he would die of suffocation anyway. But if he didn’t stop the bombs, not only would he be dead –for starters-, the sonic wave of the explosion would weaken the structures of the buildings nearby, making windows explode and rendering buildings improper to live in, with risks of collapsing. And that _also_ wouldn’t be good.

Ah, fun times. Be roasted like forgotten beacon in a pan, or end asphyxiated by something else then Dick’s farts, that is the question.

Jason didn’t really have a choice, so he ran to the second floor, and searched it the same way he did with the first. Nothing, no cars they could’ve hide it in, no straps on the ceiling, absolutely nothing.

Third floor, same squat.

Fourth floor, no luck (like it’s luck to find a bomb. That’s a fucking curse, yes!)

Fifth floor, the nasty piece of shit was laying on the concrete of the basement and with its little shitty red digit numbers indicating 3 min. The problem was…. There was not only _two_ pieces of shit laying around. _Seven_ of them were neatly disposed at every cardinal point and in the centre, a replicate of the scheme in the district.

“The hell, they reproduce or wha?” he muttered, already getting his knife out to cut the wires the old fashion way. He didn’t have time to try and see if they were all connected to one another and would all go _boom_ in his face if he shut one off. Scanning the blueprint, he took out the four by just levelling the electronic release and separating the head off the bomb.

 _One minute_.

Turning around to take care of the three pieces of shit remaining, he stood dumbfounded in front of them for a good five seconds. The bombs were protected by a code and Jason wasn’t Tim, so crack a height digit code that had to be different for each bomb was not something he could do in less than a minute. Turning around, he took his environment in. Four bombs disarmed, but explosive still active if an explosion would happen in their general vicinity. Three bombs that were set to explode and he couldn’t stop it. In a parking. A monstrous chain reaction was coming his way, and it had a nasty glance.

_Time to get out of here._

He ran like Hell had broken loose under his feet and leaped to the stairs. The fear, an old friend, came nagging at his brain, releasing an insane amount of adrenaline in his system. His strides became bigger as he reached the third floor. A hand on the guardrail, he jumped from stair to stair, and slammed into the wall of the second floor. He bounced back, gripped the Led Lamp on the ceiling and braced his feet on the wall, before throwing himself, like a modern Tarzan. The momentum projected him forward in the hallway, the landing a bit hazard, he slammed right and left, using every time sheer force to propel himself forward. His lungs were burning, not because he was rusty, but the fear was making him hyperventilate. His chest was too tight, oxygen missing, and his breaths were even more erratic. Gripping the rail like a life line, he ran without looking where he was going.

The explosion was a trap, he could see it now, but because of the depth the bombs were in, the building would only collapse on itself, and normally ( _hopefully_ ) not cause the cataclysm the Batfam dreaded on the district. It would maybe cause a lot of smoke and dust, but it would not reproduce the disaster of the Twin Towers, especially because the building was way smaller. So no casualties, except one: Him. Right now, it was completely about him surviving. 

His fingers were feeling numb, he was losing control of his body, his legs like cotton candy and eyes completely unfocused. Running only mattered, if he could just _get to the door_. He never thought he would be glad to enter a furnace his whole life. Pushing the door with his shoulder and exiting the building without missing any limb, he only had the time to take cover behind a few trashcans, and yell in his comm “EXPLOSION, PROTECT YAR ASSES!!!!” before the world around him went…

_Booooom._

* * *

_This girl is on fireeeeeee, this girl is on fiiireeeeaaoea._

Pain flared in his back. His neck made a horrible sound when the blasting force of the explosion came to him.

The world went black, then it got red with spots of white and a beautiful orange color scheme, then black again. He thought before slipping back into unconsciousness that the colourful dots he saw in his peripheral vision were a smoky mix of blue and grey, like Dick’s eyes when he woke up.

And maybe the dead-giveaway of a nasty concussion.

* * *

Jason came to his senses as a coughing fit took control of his lungs, making him gag and spit in his helmet. The filter was clearly broken and he couldn’t stop his eyes from watering as he struggled for air. The irrational part of his brain summoned him to take out the bended piece of metal of his face and let him take a breath. He wanted to scratch his eyes and massage his throat, just to _feel_ his own skin, and not the helmet he was dragging his nails on. But he knew that doing it now would probably cause his horrible death. The particles in the air would enter his lungs and clot his pulmonary alveoli, not letting the oxygen pass. He would die drowned, without any water nearby, greatest irony of his life. But the irrational part of his brain couldn’t care less, something was blocking his airway, it then _had to get out of the way!_

For a few seconds, Jason completely blacked out, almost forgetting his humanity and started to scratch at his helmet like a wounded animal, driven insane by the pain and fear. But before he could muster the neurons to find the catches and open his helmet, Batman’s training kicked in and the reflexes ingrained with it stopped any more life threatening movements. Forcing instinct and irrationality to take a backseat, he froze to assess the situation, moving almost on auto-pilot.

The worst that could happen to him now was to lose his shit –what almost happened- and asphyxiate himself during an episode, and he really didn’t need that _right_ now, in case another thing would go more sideways than it already was. Jason took big breath, as big as he managed through his helmet, using the broken filter as much as he could. Still concentrating on his breathing, imposing himself a rhythm, he searched for five things he could feel.

Side of the face that got bashed against the concrete during the explosion, ribs that cracked, the piece of garbage pressing against his side, his right shoulder against the cold asphalt and the pain in his neck as he tried to move.

He was in pain, so it meant he was still alive. Slowly coming back to reality, he focused on four things he could smell.

Smoke, his own sweat – his nose was lying on his opened arm, near his armpit, so yes he could smell himself and _boy_ _did that smell bad_ -, the distinctive smell of burning wood and the gunpowder on his gloved thumb and forefinger.

Three things he could see.

White, the white of the flying ashes – damn, he must’ve been out for a long time to only see the end of the fire. Or he had to be pretty far away. Judging by the scratches on his side, the explosion threw him several streets back like a freaking bowling ball-, the concrete and the wall near his head, and his own two feet moving slightly.

Two things that he could hear.

Well, his hearing was a vast field of nothing except a ringing tinnitus, blocking anything that his ears might want to take up to his brain, even if it meant saving his life. Shaking his head from the right to the left, he took the ringing in his hear like a positive sign that he was still in the reality he normally lived in and that he survived a point blank explosion of a building. The usual.

One thing he could do.

If his body would stop _bitching_ , then maybe he could start to _move_ and _get the hell out of here_. And mainly save his own ass. Sounded like a plan, one that he could follow and that normally wouldn’t get him in anymore danger. Look at him being such a good boy. But his body wouldn’t budge, except for his feet. Those flexed uselessly, and pain ran through his calves in waves. Jason could actually feel how his body was seconds away from becoming a human size cramp. The waves reached further, spreading to his thigh, his hips, his back, his shoulder blades, his neck, his face. He felt himself see stars as he only became pain. No rational thoughts, just flaring pain in every nerves, erasing Jason completely, for a short period of time. His mind went blank, becoming a being only made of flesh, and _pained_ flesh alone.

The waves subsided after a short while, but left Jason with the impression he had run a marathon without shoes nor water. His body was a gigantic cramp, and flexing his fingers was a plan in three steps. One, set his mind to flex his fingers. Two, relax his fingers from the cramp he was. Three, _actually_ flex them. He repeated the three-steps plan on every body part he would need to stand up and walk before carefully sitting up. His butt protested with all its might when he shifted his weight from lateral to horizontal. He didn’t hold a grudge anymore against the wall that stopped dead his flying attempt. Actually, he was starting to love this fucking wall as the world around him started to spin, and he leaned heavily against it.

Bringing his hands in front of him, he took in the fine layer of ashes covering his skin from the end of his gloves to the start of his sleeve. He didn’t know for how long he stayed there, observing his finger flexing under his will, amazed by the capacity of his brain to form a thought and for his fingers to execute it, oblivious of everything around him. The layer of ashes was giving his shirt a grey tone he couldn’t bring himself to hate and he giggled at the image of him taking off his mask, and see his body covered in white except for his face. What a half assed ghost he would be. Even his blood was a duller red, stretching to the brown, mixed with the dust floating in the air. He snapped back to reality as the wind made its way in the alley and Jason regretted his jacket, before realising in a blind rage that the explosion had probably destroyed one of his most precious belongings – _his fucking jacket! -._

The hand he put on the wall was trembling- _because of the anger_ , nothing to do with masculine ego not being able to recognise their wounds, obviously-, and he wobbled on his feet to get out of the street. He probably looked like a new born baby taking his first steps for anyone looking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His goal was to get out of here, find Dickiebird, hold him for dear life, and kill the fuckers that destroyed his jacket. Painfully simple and efficient. He shot his grapple hook, and took off. The landing was anything but gracious, more on the side of let’s-not-die-by-bashing-our-heads-again and he rolled on the rooftop, absorbing the kinetic energy and never went back up. He lied here, observing the stars he could see through the pollution of Gotham, completely obnoxious that his comm was going crazy and Dick on the other end nuts.

He was weirdly aware, but the feeling of utter contemplation was back and his body was asking for a time out, now that they were in relative security. Considering that the helmet had done its work and the smoke wouldn’t be able to reach him at this height, he took it off. The breeze ruffled through his hair, cooling his face and the nasty bruises that would appear tomorrow and he took his first big bowl of air since the building went _kaboom_.

Making out the Big Dipper in the sky, he chuckled as his fingers tried to keep the stars in his palm, and took a big shallow breath. 

“ _Yo, listen up, here’s the story. About little guy that lives in a blue world. And all day and all night, and everything he sees is just blue.”_ He began to sing, maybe a pitch to high, or a pitch to low, he couldn’t know, his eardrums were momentarily in vacation. But what he knew was that singing would alert anyone around that someone was here. Through the comms, maybe, if those little shit still worked, or just through the wind carrying his voice in the streets and on the roof tops.

“ _Blue his house, with a blue little window. And a blue Corvette, and everything is blue for h...”_ He took a big breath, forced to pause. A cough was making its way into his throat, and trying to repress it would only cause him unnecessary pain. The cough exploded in his mouth, cleansing his windpipe and bringing some things that normally should’ve stayed downstairs along with it. Jason turned to the side, and coughed with all his might, feeling that his lungs might just throw the towel and join his eardrums on vacation to the Bahamas. Gasping quietly, he planted the palm of his hands on the ground and forced himself to ignore the pain in his chest and continue to breathe.

“ _And himself and everybody around, ‘cause he ain’t got nonody to listen..”_ He continued, feeling like singing with sandpaper as a throat and an angry wet cat for a voice. Feet came into view, clad in familiar black, still without making a sound. He didn’t wait to assure himself that it really was Dick before closing his eyes and relax, feeling Nightwing patting him down, searching for injuries, the usual. He couldn’t feel anything except for the two hands touching his body, only certain that they were real because of the weight of them and that they belonged to a blue eyed beauty. “ _I’m blue, Da ba dee da bad aa, da ba dee da ba daaa….”,_ he muttered before slipping into the darkness for good, trusting Dick to bring him home safe and sound.

The darkness welcomed him warmly and Dick threw him in a fireman’s carry across his shoulders before taking out in the night, completely oblivious of the tiny shadow lurking over them, following them to the end of the district where all the Batfam met before going back.

The shadow watched them disappear, still listening to Red Hood’s heartbeat, and made a note to check on the injured vigilante once he woke up.

* * *

Jason was floating. Surrounded by darkness, he was floating, alone, with no distinction between left or right, above or under.

So normally, Jason and that kind of environment did not bid well, there was lot more of _fuck, let’s get the hell out of here_ or _How? When? Who do I have to kill?_ and not the strange calm he actually felt. He honestly felt like cotton candy, warped in warmth. Even stranger, he felt safe. His body was a gigantic pain, but he could feel the whole _pain that makes you wish you were dead, again_ only because he felt safe enough to give himself time to heal.

He let himself sink further into the darkness, and slowly started to make out something. Under his left palm was something, a weight, a warmth, a life. Bit by bit, dream let place to reality and Jason started to make out a bed under him and sheets around. Opening his hand, his fingers traced the curve of a shoulder, scars littering the skin. A shoulder blade, shifting in a slow movement and – _Oh­-_ a mole under the hair bordering the nape of the neck.

_Dick. His ass is not the only thing I would recognise at first touch._

Griping some strands of hair tight, he heard Dick sigh and shift a little, still turning his back on him. Soft, almost like silk. Jason ran his hand again and again in those strands, mesmerized by the texture, like the day he finally got the permission to shove his hands and drag his nails across this scalp for the first time. Descending a little, he groped Dick’s neck, letting his fingers circle around it. A pulse, steady, very much alive answered his silent question, letting him finally believe that everything around him was real, that Dick was really sleeping beside him. Letting his hand travel down, he cupped his jaw and snaked his fingers in Dick’s mouth, feeling his hot breaths on the tip on his skin.

Dick rolled on his stomach, trapping effectively Jason’s arm under his face, using it as a makeshift pillow. What sure was, in less than twenty minutes, his arm would go completely numb. But before he could push Dick a little to get his hand back, Dick closed his lips on the fingers he had left in his mouth and began to suck on them. Jason stilled completely, holding his breath as Dick sucked one, two times before finally stopping and began to snore softly, mouth hanging open.

_He literally used me as his personal pacifier. What the hell…_

Trying not to think about how attractive in a weird way it was, Jason folded himself around Dick’s sleeping body, acting like a living blanket, draping his other hand under Dick’s throat and slipping a leg between his. He didn’t try to press himself flush against the other vigilante, to make a full body contact, knowing too well that if he did that he would be awoken in two hours, strangled to death by a slobbering Dick mushing his face against his. A small gap between their bodies formed, leaving space for air to travel and regulate the temperature under the covers. The rhythmic raise and fall of the ribcage under his elbow lulled him back to sleep, sure of his safety, deciding to stay in that position, not caring that his left arm would make him pay for not pulling it out in time afterwards – he snorted at his own joke- and closed his eyes. Nothing could attain them in here, but over his fead body before he would say that to Bruce and admit he felt safe once again in the Manor.

Something warm rested on his side, too little to be Dick, and Jason raised an eyebrow before shrugging as the thought escaped his brainpan. The warmth he felt against his side was maybe unnatural, but Jason couldn’t bring himself to care. Dick was not stirring, so not considering it as a threat and they were in the safety of their childhood home, where the Big Bad Bat was also sleeping. Nothing except League of Shadows level could normally come here, or Damian having a bad dream. The warmth was cosy, and Jason felt himself snuggle closer to it, going to the extent to slip his other leg between it and start to drift away. And if the warmth moved to accommodate, sinking more to him, then he seriously didn’t give two shits about it. The sedative Alfred had pumped him with was hella working and he needed all the sleep he could get.

He woke up to hands in his hair and a soft voice murmuring sweet nothings in his ear. Dick was chanting, his face close to Jason’s, so close he could feel his breath against his face, brushing in rhythm with his hands in his hair. Keeping his eyes closed, he sunk in the feeling of _warm_ and _safe_. Lazily, Dick’s left hand descended from his scalp to rest against his jaw. Jason smirked internally at the offered limb, and planted a kiss to it, before nipping at the flesh near the thumb, on the palm. He was now cosily awake, still wrapped in a warmth that made him want to go back to sleep, and some cuddles with his boyfriend sounded heavenly. Even more when said boyfriend was an adept of the octopus hold. Planting another kiss, he let out an incoherent gibberish –something between “ _warm, ‘ome here_ ” and “ _fiv’ mor’ min_ ”, he didn’t know himself- and let his tongue touch the nipped flesh, giving it a lazy lick.

A huff, and the bed shifted when Dick moved, bringing his body closer and pressing flush against his side, careful of his injuries. Now that he thought about it, he could feel the bandage around his ribs and a splint around his left ankle. Jason ended pressed, blankets and all, against Dick’s body heat, arms tucked on Dick’s chest. He could feel it’s warmth even with the sheets between their bodies, the covers having pooled on Dick’s hips, leaving the chest he was resting on bare. Dick’s arms snaked around his shoulders and pulled closer - if that was even possible-, his head ending nested in the crook of his neck. He nuzzled it, brushing his nose several times on the spot he _knew_ would drive Dick a little mad, but not touching it whole-heartedly.

Dick’s mouth was soon on his collarbone, pushing Jason flat on his back, a leg between his, a response to his half teasing. His hands rested on his shoulders, his weight on his side, pressing into his injuries, only sending a reminding of what he experienced yesterday – _yesterday? You sure?-_ and stopping him from moving and only accept what Dick was giving him. He sighed when Dick bit gently on his neck, before peppering kisses along his jawline, kneading his shoulders muscles in slow motions. He let out a whine, surprising himself by the eagerness he was feeling to have Dick take care of him. But no shame at all. Another rustle, and Dick’s weight rested completely on him, pinning him to the mattress, their lower bodies connected. Jason brought his hands on Dick’s hips, and connected them on the small of his back, thanking all heavens for not wearing a shirt right now. Dick’s muscles contracted under his palms as he rested his head on his chest and looped his hands under Jason, his injured shoulder going stiff as he felt Dick’s hand level it to sneak under, joining them on the back of his neck. Their legs rested entwined with each other, and Dick sighed contently, his arms tightening a little before relaxing. A kiss was put on his left pectoral, right on the heart.

“You alright, Jay?”, Dick’s muffled voice came from his chest, sending vibrations throughout his ribcage. Not the unwanted kind, but it was tickling a little, and Jason had problems to contain his need to scratch it.

“I fee’ like I got smashed against a wall one to many times, wha’s probably happened. Everythin’ hurts” He sighed, tightening his grip on Dick to ensure that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was in pain, yes –now that the warmth was retreating back and consciousness nagging at his brain-, but not touching his boyfriend because of it was more painful. Not that he’ll admit such a thing. “How long was I out?”, he asked, dreading the answer because of the display of affection he got from Dick the second he opened an eye. The excited puppy was a sign that everything was pretty much alright, when the quiet gestures of affections and words muttered signalled that Dick had to repress everything for a while in order to function. Including fear for his significant other.

The silence he got confirmed his theory. He had given Mister Sunshine in Wonderland a scare.

An incoherent gibberish came from his torso, where Dick had started speaking with his head buried in it. The tickles were coming back and Jason was starting to feel that Dick was doing it on purpose.

“Wha? I can’t hear ya, Dickiebird, not when you’re hiding.”, He squeezed tighter, letting him feel that he was awake and kicking, and _absolutely_ not going to die today.

“I said; four days.”, Dick’s voice rang through the room, sending him chills, anger barely controlled. “But you know, normally, two days after the explosion, you should’ve woken up. With a headache sure, but you would’ve been conscious.” Jason braced himself for the upcoming lecture, knowing fully well what was coming next. Suddenly, having Dick on him was not really a good idea, not when he had a full range and that he, Jason Todd, was not filling at his best today.

“And what was our _surprise_ when we found out you hadn’t slept in two days”, Dick continued, sensing that Jason was trying to make himself invisible. Tightening his grip on his neck, he peppered kisses on the pectoral, “And only managed to get three hours of sleep before and the concussion of last night. Seriously, Jay, you should’ve been in a coma already! So when you got knocked out –forcefully- and was on pain meds afterward, your brain decided to take a well-deserved nap. And you gave all of us a scare before Alfred determined what was going on.”, Dick lifted his head, pulling off the spot he had bitten on to punish Jason for nearly dying, only to meet him smiling with all his teeth out. The white of them could be seen in the darkness of the room. It was a little creepy, even more when Dick felt Jason’s hand sneak their merry way on his sides and clamped down, holding his ribcage in his grip. A move and Dick could end tickled to death. 

In a blink of an eye, Dick was on his back. Jason slipped through his legs and settled between them, letting all his weight rest on top of Dick. Pushing Dick’s arms to the side with his elbows, he laid on him like someone would lay on a blanket at the beach, on their stomach and smiled at him. Dick was not beautiful in that position. Not in the aesthetic sense. He was trying to glare at Jason, his head up while the rest of his body was pinned, causing his chin to form several double chins. He honestly looked like an angry seal.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’ ”, he started before Dick could say anything. “I get it, I scared ya.”

He didn’t say _sorry_ , although he felt like it, knowing that saying sorry wouldn’t change anything and wouldn’t hold him back to throw himself in harm’s way when the time would come. Kissing the juncture between Dick’s neck and shoulder, he sucked at the spot who made Dick writhe under him every time. And now was no exception. With a breath, Dick arched his back, pressing himself against Jason. He tilted his head to give Jason more access, and griped his biceps hard, hard enough to make Jason stop, unsure of what Dick wanted. Dick observed his silhouette in the room, making the tones of shadow he discerned as Jason, as the back that had carried him more times than he would want to remember, the arms he knew could kill but could also caress, the person that was anything but evil. Letting his head thump back, he released his grip on Jason’s arm and spoke softly, lacing his tone with mischievousness even though he wanted to _scream and shout and let it all out (say o-i-o-io-io.)_

“I know what you’re doing. “, Jason stilled above him, before relaxing, because _bats and if Dick didn’t know me, I wouldn’t be going out with him, Duh._ and came closer once again to Dick’s body, this time however lower.

“Oh really? And wha’ m’I doing, Mister detective?”

“You’re trying to distract me with sex, asshole. I’m still mad at you.”, Dick didn’t mention the fact that it was the only way Jason knew how to say _sorry_. He wasn’t a man of big words, unlike Tim or Damian –who by the way used those words to hurt, but are incapable of saying anything remotely nice to anyone-, but like all of them, Batfamily genetics or whatever, his actions spoke louder than voices. And were indubitably clearer. And came with them much more pleasure. Dick decided to stop overthink things, trying to relax enough to really enjoy the apology Jason was offering. But he knew it would be difficult, and he was prepared to simulate his pleasure in order to get it over with.

“Is ‘hat righ’? Imma corrupt ya then? Me, the beautiful an’ handsome criminal? Then lemme ask ya som’ questions, D.” All the while he spoke, his hands sneaked under the covers to grab Dick’s hips and clamp down. Nuzzling under Dick’s chin, sensing him losing focus and congratulating himself for that, he licked his way down his jaw to the throat.

“What do you want to know?”, Dick’s tone was perfectly controlled, no sign of any pleasure or pain whatsoever. But the way his fingers flexed into nothing when Jason bit gently on his pectoral, mimicking his gesture from before, clearly stated that he was trying to catch the pleasure train and Jason was very happy to help him up. However, Jason knew that tonight, he wouldn’t be enough to get Dick out of his own head. His actions, because of his previous injuries, would only take Dick back to the bad places, where he had died and Damian too. Luckily, a Bat never did something without a plan, and Jason of all was known for his improvisation skills and his dirty mouth.

“The chick with the coffee trap. What da ya think of ‘er?”

His question was met with silence. Dick raised an eyebrow, and even in the darkness, Jason could sense the disbelief radiating from his boyfriend.

“Jay, what the fuck? I thought we were going to have sex. Not discuss the embarrassing event where I landed on my ass and a girl I never met on top of me.”

Snorting, Jason went back to kissing the middle of Dick’s stomach, licking his way down. It was cute how Dick didn’t want to talk about this, even though Jason was sure that with a heart as big as his, Dick had already adopted the chick the moment she attacked him for being too close to her brother. It proved she was as selfless as him and more importantly for Dick, she was fucking smart. Trapping a vigilante with something as simple as coffee while being in a stressful situation with him potentially threatening her brother showed nerves and a tactic mind. And damn if that wasn’t an attractive trait already. A bonus was that she had nothing to scoff at, with her tiny body and toned muscles. Brain, muscles and curves altogether in one person.

“I hear’ ya, y‘know. Callin’ ‘er beautiful. ‘nd I know tha’ ya don’t use tha’ tone with anyon’ else but me, _normally._ And not in every circumstance. I dunno wha’ really happened bac’ there, but it went straight ta yar dick.”, He said, nibbling at the flesh at the juncture of the sweatpants. A sharp breath responded to his ministrations, and Dick closed his eyes, because _busted._

“Jay…”, a whine. A plead to let this go, to let himself think that it didn’t exist.

“ ‘nd I watched the feed live, seeing ya landin’ on yar ass made my day. She’s a fuckin’ badass. So, tell little ol’ me about ‘er. Whaddaya think of ‘er?”, the question got punctuated by a bite at the hipbone, nailing Dick’s coffin. Jason was not going to let it go, and wanted to hear his thoughts about her. Letting himself be caught in the memories, he pushed all his fear, all his anger towards Jason and their lifestyle aside to enter the realm of dreams and possibilities. 

“She’s so much more than that, Jay. Eli’s so much more.” Dick began, breathless. Jay hummed, encouraging him to continue, noting the use of the name, as he slipped his left hand under the waistband and descended further, caressing Dick’s thighs and the crevasse between his leg and the start of his pelvis. He didn’t touch the bulge forming, pressing against his chest, preferring to continue teasing.

“Ya went back?”, He asked, carefully massaging the thigh he had in his hand. He licked the inside of Dick’s bellybutton, earning a light squeak and a swat on the upper arm.

“I went ba-back, yes…”, Jason didn’t know if the _yes_ was an affirmation to his previous question or a demand showing him he was doing good. Anyhow, he continued. “And it went –ah- like before… I stepped a foot in her apartment, and poof… There she was, wearing a destroyed sweater again, with a cup of _delicious_ coffee –seriously, I should ask her the brand she uses...- and apologised to me, for throwing me down. I asked for her name, and she just shrugged before saying that if I was a real Bat, I should’ve done my homework. I… asked my questions, like w-why her sweater was completely and utterly destroyed, and she got mad. Looked like an angry chipmunk as.. she m-muttered that I had ripped the neck when we fell. The cutest thing of all....” Jason smirked at the attempts to keep his voice from wavering, and decided to step his game up, beginning to press heavier against Dick’s bulge, side-tracking him even further.

“She saaaid –JAY! - she wasn’t really sorry for that tho-though, and should’ve thrown m-me out the window the moment she spotted me. She al-so said she had problems grabbing me, because I was, and I quote, ‘ridiculously tall, you giraffe’. –With the British accent and raised eyebrow, a mini-Alfred-. She’s just so-o damn tiny! Like you could wrap your arm around her and she would completely disappear.” Dick’s tone was dreamy, like he was almost in that situation. Knowing him, he had a hard time restraining himself to engulf her in an octopus hold when he saw her again. Jason asked himself if he had come back only once or more, but didn’t dare to ask, dreading the answer.

“… and is that weird that I found her absolutely stunning in her pj’s and her buzz cut flat on one side, looking absolutely murderous? I think there was some saliva still smearing in her cheek. She sleeps on the side then.”, Dick’s question was holding a real interrogation, like he couldn’t believe himself. “I wanted to kiss her right here and now.”, Jason faltered a bit, not really believing that Dick was _that_ lost to a stranger, but the next sentence reassured him about his relationship with Dick.

“I wanted to have some good time with her, and you, all together.” Dick murmured, like it was something he should be ashamed of, like Jason would react negatively.

 _Ah, there we go_. Honestly, Jason wasn’t really on board with the whole getting new partners thing, but some imagination wouldn’t hurt and Eli sure had some curves he could be salivating for. He had seen her on the live feed, the subtle goth vibe from her haircut and ear piercings visible like the nose on the middle of the face, and honestly, he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. Wished to see her fully clothed one day, and not just in oversized sweaters and boxers. Hell, she already had Dick, why not let himself dream a little bit too? He was sure Eli wouldn’t mind being used in their minds as a coping mechanism. No, scratch that, he didn’t care if she was scandalised or not, it’s not like she could read their thoughts. Dick was now where Jason wanted him to be, lost in his fantasies, not worrying about the future or Jason’s lifespan and nothing would stop him from taking care of his boyfriend. Not even a prude. 

Jason shifted, riding one of Dick’s legs, pressing his own growing desire against him, his chest still pressed on Dick’s lower stomach, but the genital area was now free to really touch and play with. Wanting for Dick to relax even more, he gripped him at the base of the penis and began slowly to stroke it. His other hand sneaked around his throat, not putting pressure in any way –they didn’t need any more chocking then what they experienced day-to-day. - just letting him know that he was here and the strength behind his grip was a sign of his well-being. Dick arched his back slightly and tensed his legs at the first stroke, pressing against the hand around his windpipe. Jason knew without needing light how Dick would look like at this exact moment. Dishevelled, eyes closed, his bed hair transforming into sex hair because of the sweat trailing down his temples. A holy sight to behold.

“Oh, I can see tha’ happenin’. Ya would be completely at ou’ mercy, on yar back, lettin’ the two of us take care of ya. Can you see tha’? Arms ‘nd legs wide open, sandwiched between us, receiving our kisses, our caress. ‘er kissin’ yar throat ‘nd playing with yar nipples, pressing her breasts on yer back, and me, oh me swallowing Dickie Junior, us both makin’ ya scream with pleasure. Ya’d like tha’, Big Wing?”

A whine and a groan with a high pitch responded, Dick growing tenser and tenser by the seconds. But it wasn’t enough, Jason knew. It wasn’t enough to bring Dick over the edge.

“Ya’d be a good boy for us? Let me fuck ya deliciously open while she would give us a show, with her fingers entering _slowly,”,_ another hard stroke, going from the base to the top, pinching the tip, making Dick keen. “her bod’, wearing yar sweater –don’t lie ta me, Dickie, I know you gave her something to replace her destroyed sweats. ‘Nd ya felt pretty smug knowin’ she’s wearing something of yars for sleep, didn’t ya?”, Dick nodded with a gasped smile, not even _bothering_ to hide. So he had gone back more than once then. Jason felt a bit of anger at the competition, but he never backed down from a challenge before and wastn' going to start now. And really, if that Eli had Dick already wrapped around her little finger, then she proved to be mighty. All bets were on. Smirking at his newfound resolve, he kissed Dick’s throat, massaging it with his hand, and went on with his little fantasy. Switching the lamp beside the bed on, he took in the man under him, pride swelling in his chest at the sight. Dick was red from desire, eyes closed with his mouth slightly opened, chest red from his kisses and the unclean ruff that had grown on his cheeks during his sleep. He looked stunning, too dishevelled to be a porn star, but looking so true to himself to be nothing else than a sex god.

“She would make ya watch, tempt ya with her fingers, a taste of what ya could have if ya behaved correctly. ‘Nd then, maybe she would let ya suck her fingers, let ya taste ‘er juices, lick ‘hem herself and kiss ya senseless, fucking yar mouth with ‘er tongue. ‘Nd I would watch, see ya completely broken, ours to hold, ours to pleasure. That would be the fuckin’ paradise, eh, Dick?” His strokes began to go faster, Dick barely listening to him, lost in his own fantasied pleasure. Dick’s hands were a death grip in his hair, pulling strands and pressing Jason’s head further in his stomach.

Jason was also beginning to imagine the scene unfolding, with a mirage of Eli between them, helping him take care of Dick. Sitting on him with one hand in his hair, directing his gaze where the other one was, caressing herself, she would look near crossing the edge. Feeling something stir inside of him, expanding and touching something warm, he continued in the elaboration of his fantasy, feeling the warmth spreading through him and reach his fingertips. Her face would be flushed, jaw clenched to control her movements and give a _damn_ show, denying herself some pleasure now to be rewarded by Dick’s moan and begging. She would push his hands back, flat on the mattress near his hips, with her feet, and sit on her knees to get more friction.

Speaking of Dick, Jason heard a grunt and a high moan, and felt his boyfriend shift under him, like he was trying to accommodate to something. Looking up, he saw that Eli, the mirage Eli they were both thinking about was sitting on Dick, her legs apart on Dick’s torso, trapping the arm he had stretched to hold Dick’s throat under her left thigh. She was holding Dick’s head in her palm, fingers gripping his hair in what looking like a death grip, directing his gaze on her other hand, where she was touching herself. Dick’s wasn’t going anywhere.

Jason could actually see her back trembling, shoulder blades contracting and relaxing with every move of her hand. Dick looked mesmerised, eyes wide open and was staring right at her, following every single movement of her hand. With every stroke against her core, he would respond by a moan. He looked completely lost in pleasure, only able to accept what she was giving him with a whine. No fighting back, no searching for control. Dick fought tooth and nail every day to control himself, his emotions, his appearance. To let go like that normally needed drugs or an emotionally draining moment –which Dick apparently experimented with Jason’s near death experience-. Releasing his grip on Dick’s throat, he withdrew his arm, brushing against her clitoris on the way, making her jump and pant. It angered him a bit that the image of Eli had succeeded where he couldn’t. He grabbed her neck, not resisting the urge to connect with her as well and remind her that, _hello_ , he was also there and that they were three in this adventure to take care of Dick, not two and a third wheel. Color him surprised when he actually felt something under his palm, and that mirage Eli threw her head back in his hand. She was warm, and very much alive, with her jaw clenched and eyes closed. Her pulse was strong and beating rapidly under his palm. Sploshes of red dusted her face, her breasts moving along the rocking of her hips.

Beauty wasn’t what could have described her best, Jason thought, almost lucid. She was fucking ethereal, like a sacred power that you should fear and idolise at the same time. A true mirage, coming out his imagination. DIck was not wwrithing under them both, trying to touch, to lick, and failing miserably. Desperate, he let his head fall back on the pillows. 

His brain was too short circuited with desire to care and he felt Dick come in a scream as he pressed his thumb on the slit, covering him and mirage Eli’s back in cum. Eli arched, her hand pressing harder against herself, caressing more vigorously now that Dick, for whom she had delayed her own pleasure, like Jason, had already come. Panting, she hung her head low, letting Jason’s hand hold her upright by the neck, and soon came in a whimper. A whole body shudder went through her, making Dick groan by the overstimulation when she let herself plop near his strained penis. Jason took the picture they were making together, Eli still pining Dick’s hands on the mattress and completely boneless on top of him, and almost burst at the sexiness they were radiating. He closed his eyes to brand it in his memory, sneaking a hand in his boxers. Caressing himself, he came quickly, not bothered by the whines coming from Dick who wanted to take caring of his _problem_ , before looking up and see that the beautiful picture Dick and the Fae that was Eli was nowhere to be seen. In particular, Eli had completely disappeared. Dick’s eyes fluttered a few times, going from absolutely blurred with desire to a buzzing aftermath. Frowning, he watched him as he waved his hand through the air, where mirage Eli was before.

“You saw her too, Jay?”, Dick asked as his hand searched the space once again. He desperately needed some insurance that what he saw was only his brain imagining things, but with Dick seeing it too, that theory got busted before it could even take form. Left was group hallucination, but he was the only one on pains meds to be incline to have those –and he knew that Dick slept more than four hours per night, _beauty sleep, honey,_ so sleep deprived hallucinations were only the Replacement’s problem. Or Batman’s when Alfred wasn’t around-. 

“I did. A wet dream walkin’. She was fuckin’ glowing. Damn, what’s going on?”

Dick’s sigh gave nothing of an answer, only wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close, snuggling in their post-coital bliss. It was maybe a problem for another day. Another one to put on the to-resolve-list, that was getting bigger and bigger with time. What sure was, was the fact that it couldn’t have been anything else than a vision or illusion, because the Manor was barred from top to bottom with sensors and cameras, so another human than the usual ones would have flipped a switch and sent the Manor into lockdown. _Usually._

_Doesn’t explain how I was able to touch her._

* * *

Somewhere in Gotham, Eli woke up sneezing, her underwear completely soaked.

Scratching her head, she shook herself like a dog out of water, and got up to change. She drank some water, sniffed her panties, put her finger on the soaked part _just_ to be sure it wasn’t blood –Periods that announce themselves unexpected are a pain in the left ovary to clean, fish odor and all, _even_ when you use citrus and cold water, _yes Isaac_ \- before throwing them in the dirty laundry basket. Going back into her room, she picked an underwear that felt nice, smooth, most likely a silk boxer, judging by the touch. The cotton ones felt like sand on her skin and left her the itch to scratch herself the whole day, making her walk funny as she tried every ten minutes to scale it out of her butt. Taking off the shirt she was wearing before, she reviewed her planning of the day. Work at the police station, and then grocery shopping, Isaac not coming home before dawn. And it would be over her dead body when she would let her bro go out _at night_ to carry _heavy as hell_ shopping bags _near_ Crime Alley. Too many disadvantaging variables. And a big sister instinct that would nag her the entire day. She’ll manage, maybe ask the cashier to help her pick the vegetables on the bucket list or just order online maybe. But she liked to go outside too, so online doesn’t really have the same appeal.

She threw on the sweater that laid on the floor, picking on the undertone of apple shampoo and skittles under the smell of spandex and… _is that talcum powder?_ Obviously, it wasn’t hers, but the vigilante’s – _Nightwing, and he smells very good indeed, even more when he’s exci…-_

Nope, not even going to go there. U-hun, Nopedinope. He had left it there yesterday, without any explanation, only a wave that disrupted the wind coming from the open window. And leaving sweaters that obviously were yours were only a sign that you felt sorry for destroying the previous ones, no? Nothing else, surely… She threw him on the ground! If he caught feelings because of that, Eli didn’t want to know about his feelings for every villain that had ever thrown him down. Eurk.

Clean –relatively, the shower would have to wait- and still tired, she stood in the middle of her room at what her biological clock told her was the _very early_ hours of the morning and took a big breath, pushing the flashes of _hot, warm, desired, sex, **two** **fucking males** -one that smelled like Nightwing and she only had a whiff of the other one on N’s skin, gunpowder and old book, but she **knew, she knew who it was-**_ in the back of her mind to be reflected upon when wide awake. Or never, it was also an option. Being an ostrich was something she knew how to do and was not afraid to bury everything that just happened. Forever.

She tried to concentrate, not be rapt by the knowledge that _the other one had the same smell as the male who sang **so** beautifully and WHO GOT CAUGTH IN A FUCKING EXPLOSION. _Seriously, her heart could only take that much.

She turned around, popped her head out of her room, and listened to Isaac’s breathing for some long minutes, making sure he was deeply asleep. A snort and some soft muffles answered her silent question.

And finally she let herself silently freak out. Sinking to her knees, she wrapped her arms around herself and tried to muffle a hysterical laugh. The darkness inside her churned and swirled, having had a taste of _could be_ and deciding it was _fucking great._

_This is totally Red Hood’s fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom voila. I'm in the middle of exams and actively procrastinating, lol.   
> I have no beta-reader, so anyone who wants it, feel free to give a comment.   
> I know I jumped the gun a bit with that sexy scene, but I fucking regret nothing. Fight me. 
> 
> Happy New Year!  
> Clear skin and good sex for all of you.


	6. the darkness is my home, my hunting ground, my territory.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Wade's not here today, he got sick and Peter is taking care of him. So sadly he won't be able to comment on my work (thank God...)  
> This chapter is mainly centred on Eli's vision -heh, funny- of the story, and lemme tell ya, she's a little shit. But a little shit with anxiety and trust issues. 
> 
> Teaser:   
> "He was left with his hormones and libido screaming as Isaac yelled "Sorry!" and closed the hallway door."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom. Chapter 6, baby.   
> Chapter 7 is en cours d'écriture, and it's going to be hilarious. I plan on that. And Hopefully, Wade will be strong enough to be there with me. Funny how an immortal can walk off with bullet holes, but goes on his knees for a flu. (It's not the only thing that's gets him to submit tho :))
> 
> May you have a good week and I'll see you later.   
> Peace out.

Red Hood was fine, Eli knew. Logically anyway.

He had to be. How else would he have been able to just summon her in her sleep to give Nightwing a show, as if he wasn’t _damn_ fine enough to hold the fort alone? 

Eli let her head bang on the table, making the lady testifying a few meters away jump – _third table, she smells like fear and vaginal secretions, under the lily perfume. Blood too. Most likely mugged or domestic violence. And she’s starting her ovulatory period. –_ and let a groan of frustration. Three weeks. Three fucking weeks without anyone crashing in her apartment. No wind rushing through the open window to make her regret not having the budget for anything warmer than sweaters and sweatpants with fuzzy socks.

Three fucking weeks with those images of the fire branded in her head, every flames and every stars she had seen through Red Hood’s eyes. How all his injuries hurt, how his lungs were clogged. And now, _nothing_. Abso-freaking-lutly nothing. So yes, maybe she had met Nightwing only three times, but their dynamic was one that you could feel in old couple. And the bond with Red Hood was not supposed to work like that. _It had never worked like that before_. And that was weird, clearly. But the weirdness of it all didn’t stop her from wondering if anything had happened to N or RH (she was now abbreviating their names. She was tired alright?!) in the span of those three weeks.

Or if those fuckers were avoiding her. Because of a threesome-shaped incident. ‘Cause now that she thought about it, there were times at home when she heard pebbles cracking under heavy boots on the roof next building. But the steps were light enough to confound it with one of a child or teenager, so she had dismissed it as Isaac’s little stalker. But maybe she was wrong. She had seen no signs of Red Hood during patrol, Nightwing always being alone or with that kid that had left a scent on Isaac’s jacket. Not to mention N smelled sad and upset every time she sensed him, and that wasn’t very comforting. And their coms conversations were never interrupted by a deep voice, deeper than N’s, with a sweet tone to it…

_Bastards._

And now she was worried sick. She knew that Red hood had to be fine, rationally. But it didn’t stop the darkness to churn painfully in her, demanding _living_ proof, something she could touch, something she could hold. Sighing, she scratched her head with her pencil, stabbing herself several times with the tip before realising she was holding it backwards. Great, now her hair was coloured in a colour she couldn’t even see. Hopefully her hair was long enough to hide it? She had a meeting in the afternoon and wasn’t looking (pun intended _)_ forward to it, but even less now that she could arrive with streaks of red or green on her skull. Way to be seen as responsible and adult.

_Assholes._

Some shuffle, angry steps, and the smell of hand cream made its way to her. Great the cavalry’s here, and she was draped on her table like a drowning human with a wooden board. Really professional, with colour in her hair. She didn’t move, knowing already that she was in for an earful. Keeping her head on the heavenly cool wood, Eli let the man come at her – _obviously a man, physically anyway, because wearing no underwear and cockie being free makes a little windie. Favouring right side. Therefore, armed. No metal, plastic weapon: lighter. Preponderance on the lower stomach. Should do some sports. Heart is tired: heavy under stress, not eating a balanced diet. -_ and mentally prepared herself.

“Oi, Merounem! You’re not being paid to bend over the table, you hear me? I need Nr.526 profile now, not in ten years!”, the voice came closer, and soon her eardrums were considering taking a vacation at the screeching going on.

_Wow, rude much?_

Eli decided not to move her head, keeping her upper body glued to the table. She lifted her ass in the air, keeping her legs tense. Rocking on the ball of her feet, she made her ass cheeks bounce up and down several times before straightening up. Stretching her arms way up, she made a show of her body she knew was toned and considered as alluring _–_ Isaac had ranted about it more than one time. Whining that with a body like hers, he would have _way_ more success. Eli didn’t ask with whom; Isaac would come to her at one point-. Yawning, she rolled her shoulders, descending her arms to her sides, feeling how her shirt was moving along every of her moves, her back arched, making her curves _that_ much more visible. And at the sound of the accelerating heartbeats of several officers ( _McCall, Argent and Juleka. Isn’t Juleka married though? Has a partner, that’s for sure.),_ she had a captivated audience. She let her arms fall back down and slapped her ass for good measure. 

Her little tease done, she pushed her tainted glasses back up and turned in the direction of that voice. – _North-East, a window is open, someone forgot to put deodorant on. I forgot. Shit-_ She cocked a hip on the side and gave her best cheeky grin, the one Isaac had made her practice in front of him thousands of times to get the perfect form to relay the message ‘Are you sure I’m being completely ironic, or just overly sweet?’ before speaking.

“I was merely resting my eyes, Commissar Noah.”

A snort answered her, and well, she was waiting for it. She was acting like a little shit right now, but also trying for everyone to cool down and take a breather. The week had been a living hell for everyone, and she could feel that some officers were a little trigger happy, because of the recent explosions in Crime Alley. The drug lords under Red Hood’s thumb were in a direct conflict with the remnant of the Chinese Triade, and the city had seen better days. Commissar Noah had been roasted once again for not being able to do his job without the help of any spandex clad crazy, and the atmosphere in the station was downright gloomy. So what more appropriate then a good smack down where you could vent (him), have a punching ball (her) and let the other enjoy the show? With popcorns, s’il vous plait.

“Merounem, we both know you’re as blind as a mole. Next time I hear that excuse; I’ll make you search for a needle in a haystack. _Literally_.”

“Why a haystack Commissar? The utter mess that is your office would discourage anyone to try and find anything of relevance, let alone poor little me –blind as I am- to succeed. Thank God for digital copy, right? Last time, you asked me to go fetch the folder on your desk. I didn’t find it, Sir. I only found something squishy that _literally_ moved when I put my hand on it. To this day, I still don’t know what it was.”

She heard some snickers and mentally patted herself on the back for lightening the mood, even a little bit. A huff, and the muscles of Noah’s shoulders and back relaxed, like he had caught up what Eli was trying to do. But it didn’t mean he was okay with her methods.

“Okay, that’s it, Merounem. I’ve heard you complain about my organisational skills one too many times. You’re officially on clean up duty.” A whoosh, meaning he had extended his hand in front of her mouth before she could even begin to protest. “And before you start with the ‘’I’m incapable of reading what’s actually written on it without coming up with kinky names’’ you smartass, you’ll be helped by Officer Kogane.”

Said officer was on his feet at the speed of light, angry with the anger of the just and completely deflated at the crossed arms and hip cocked to the side coming from Noah. The expression _deny it and I will come for your ass_ was clear. 

“Don’t you start too, Kogane. You were supposed to come to the administration meeting last week, and you _mysteriously_ disappeared for two whole hours. I just hope that those hours were _very_ productive, because you’re going to pay for them starting now to clean the whole office.” Some snorts were heard, and Kogane himself grew warm, radiating heat from his face especially. - _He’s blushing like a kind caught with his hand in the cookie jar-_

Kogane just grumbled some excuses, and Eli didn’t need to hear his heartbeat to know he wasn’t feeling sorry at all for ‘’disappearing’’, when it actually meant that he went to see the café owner down the street and had a _damn_ sweet time –was it a McCain, McVain… McClain? Either way, he smelled like sand and salty waves. - Sometimes she regretted to have such enhanced senses, because would you want it or not, you would be bound to have details about someone’s sexual life. Sighing once again, Eli turned to the punished officer and held out her hand. After a few seconds of incomprehension, Kogane seemed to get the memo and grasped it.

Smiling, she bowed to him and kissed his hand in an old fashioned way, making him jump in surprise and blush even more. _People are hilarious._

“Enchanted to have your company in our quest for stinky socks and forgotten coffee mugs, my mighty companion. We shall have not perished in vain if we attain the absolute cleanness, our holy Grail.”

Even Noah stifled a laugh when Kogane snorted and the whole atmosphere went a few aggressive points down. _Objective completed._ Kogane smelled good actually, his hands were calloused from training with something else than a gun, maybe a sword or knife, and wasn’t a pain to be around, unlike some assholes who thought that being blind meant you couldn’t do your job or be trusted with sensible evidence. Looking –hehe, what a joke- at the bright side of it all, cleaning duty would give her an excuse to stay later than anyone, and therefore no one to question why she used a detour to go back home. Said detour was the hangar where her equipment was, and she really didn’t need anyone snooping around, even worse with cops. But Officer Kogane would want her safe and sound before the night shift would replace them. He was a good person like that, but a pain in the left ovary when he decided to be stubborn.

Well, she’ll have to improvise. Her life was a big improvisational act anyway.

Coming up, she sat back at her desk, and run her hands on the folders perfectly organised – _you should learn from it, Noah. –_ searching, reading the bumps she had made with a sharpie, because they don’t have the budget to accommodate a disabled person. Not that she really complained, she could care for herself –the hours she spent every night translating every file with her phone in vocal recordings said otherwise, but meh, workaholic much -, and it was cute to know people were trying to learn braille in order to understand some typed part of her reports.

Ah-ha, there it is. Pulling out the profile, she made her chair spin round and round, hand raised above her head. The spinning was making her inner ear beg her to stop, but the feeling was hilarious, internal organs seemingly getting glued on the walls of her insides because of the centrifugal force. 

“Attention, attention. the Commissar is asked to pick up the file #526 at the Main Desk. I repeat, Commissar Noah is asked to pick up the file #526 at the Main Desk." she singsung. 

Said Commissar came back to her, smelling like the awful thing people call an industrial coffee machine and more relaxed she had felt him today. His hand shot out and gripped abruptly her chair, making her remake of ‘ _’you spin my head right round_ ’’ come to a stop before she could hurl. Good thing for her reputation she hadn’t eaten this morning. Bad thing for her ultra-developed pain in the ass metabolism that was making her pay, hunger lacerating her insides. She’ll have to grab a _big_ bite before the reunion, or else she might start hunting the bugs. The folder was promptly taken out of her hand, and got replaced with another file, this one quite thin.

Tilting her chin up to try and give the impression she was searching for the Commissar’s eyes, she raised an eyebrow as a silent question. The space in front of her filled, and she could scent Noah’s breath from her seating place. _Don’t flinch, don’t lean back, you know how it went last time. Offer him a bubble gum or some shit, discreetly. Seriously, how can people drink that crap?!_

“That file is about one henchman people have seen several times around Crime Alley, talking to the big guns of the drug business. Looks like he’s some high profile in Red Hood’s hierarchy at the sound of it, seeing how people act like scaredy cats when he’s brought up.” Noah’s hand patted her shoulder as her fingers traced the folder’s title written in braille. “The file is written in your language don’t worry, got it typed in Gotham Central just for you. In the span of those four months since you’re here, I learn you’re damn good at your job. Proved it seconds ago. So I want you to tell me where he goes, who he fucks with, what he thinks in the shower, you feel me? You crack his brain like a peanut, and we’ll take it from there.”

Eli huffed, clearly imagining hours and hours of speaking with witnesses, listening to reports, letting someone watch for her the footage and describe it to her. She’ll have to ask Isaac for that and stay home more frequently. She’ll have to refrain from vigilante work for a few weeks. If there was anything more than a file about the guy. Bonding moments were coming, and it looked for that part great.

“You have anything else on your mystery man, Officer? A name? Footages? You saw him in your crystal ball this morning? ‘Cause with only this, I’ll surely be able to tell you he likes Beyoncé, but not where he could plot any evil plan.”

“We do, actually. All the extensive information is stocked in the archives; I’ll have McCall pick them up for ya. Just know that from now on, this guy is your priority number one. We need the intel and be able to predict his next moves. The higher ups want to take down Red Hood, even if we both know he’s the one keeping violence at bay. No civilians have been hurt yet, but if Penguin’s crew dives _really_ in, going upper ground, we’re deep in the caca.”, Leaning in further, Noah whispered in Eli’s hear to continue, not that she really needed it to hear him. She could hear his muttering three levels down with several doors closed, even in the loo. Fun times when he was constipated. “You do your job, but try to make a connection between Penguin’s affair and this dude. All other leads are dead; Penguin is too deep in our beloved politicians’ pockets to be even threatened. If we can help Hood, then we will, but this guy needs to be cornered to even listen to us, alright?”

Straightening, he turned to Kogane who was waiting for Eli, and pointed a finger at his torso. “You’ll be Merounem’s eyes for this case. Any questions on behaviour, clothing, you answer as detailed as possible, understood? You two will be on this case together.”

Eli refrained from groaning, she really didn’t need a babysitter for more than one day- today being the only exception with cleaning duty- and honestly, Isaac was more than enough for eyeing purposes. The slumping she heard told her that her new partner was as _thrilled_ as her to work together on this case. Cleaning the office was one thing, being glued to the hip for a case that would probably mean more work and general frequentations was something else entirely. Two lone wolves on case. A blind turning vigilante at night and a knife fanatic. This _totally_ didn’t have the word disaster written in neon letters on it. Isaac’s expressions, not hers. Turning back to her desk, she waved her hand in Kogane’s general direction and motioned him to come over and sit beside her. Said Officer laid half an ass on her desk and crossed his arms. Even without sight, she could feel his glare.

Sighing, she turned to McCall and retrieved the small carton of information they had on this dude. Emphasis on the small. Putting a hand in it, she got out the same folder, this one written in the alphabet for the visual people, and handed it out to Kogane. He took it quite violently, like it was her fault they were together on this case. Which probably was true, not that she’ll admit it aloud. The next couple minutes were spent in the general hullabaloo, neither of them speaking. Taking some notes on her computer about what she read, she waited for Kogane to be finished and start to speak, to give his opinion or description.

Nothing. The guy had since long ago closed the folder and was probably staring into nothing, or by the sound of it, he was playing with his knife. Not threateningly, or else her senses would have gone havoc, but he was doing something else than helping her. She strongly wanted to kick him in the knee, but she was the rookie here and risking the wrath of the station because the invalid injured the angry one wasn’t something she was looking for. Instead, she just taped her cheek to signal discreetly she was done and get his attention. Thankfully, he caught quickly on and leaned in her personal space.

“What do you need?”, he asked quite evenly. Maybe she had misjudged his previous behaviour if his tone didn’t contain any anger or annoyance. His heartbeat couldn’t lie, and he was calm and a little bit relaxed. He was waiting for her to be finished, and she almost had kicked him for not paying attention. Smiling, she realised that he was giving their partnership a try, even for today. If he could do it, then why not her? 

“I have the physical description written in front of me”, She said, fingers moving from the left to the right on the paper, “but I want you to give me yours. Is that alright with you?”

Some shuffle, and Kogane laid _finally_ both of his asscheeks on her desk, giving her his undivided attention.

“Like expressions, scars, tattoo, body language, that kind of shit?”, his tone was curious, like he hadn’t done anything like that before.

“Yeah, colours too if you can. It helps when you ask someone if they remember a dude with a green scarf or a dudette with red shoes.”, Turning to him, at least trying to display her face to his eyes, she asked in a chirped tone, “So, you’re on? If you really help me, I’ll cover for you when you need to ‘’disappear’’ for a few hours. When nothing is going on at least. I’ll even bring condoms if you need!” Maybe she was pushing it a bit, but as Kogane’s face grew impossibly warm, radiating heat she could almost feel, and he murmured ashamed, “…Does everybody know or what?”, she knew he was really fun to tease.

“Nope,” clicking her tongue on the ‘p’, she smiled brightly, “I’m just that good. Anyway, describe this dude’s ugly mug, if you will.”

A sigh, then a smile. “Honestly, Merounem, the pal’s quite alright. Built like a trunk. Looking at the photos, wide shoulders, upper arms very developed, muscles of the back and legs used regularly. Strong jawline, a line in the middle of his chin, forming two mini-cheeks either sides. The maxilla muscles well defined, ears straight. No side protruding. The eyes are a bit sunken, and the eyebrows overshadowing.”, Kogane shifted, his nails clicking on tablet he was using to observe the shots taken. A thoughtful hum, and he leaned into Eli’s space. “Soo… The shots are black and white, but from the looks of it, his hair color lies between the ginger and the blonde. Eyes clear, not brown. He looks like someone who has seen too much to remain sane, but all the shots taken show him smiling. This smile is not on the dangerous range, more on the _It’s sunny outside, let’s go out and eat ice cream_ kind. Whole stance screams _training_ with weapons. Arms behind his back, legs spread shoulder length and chin straight while waiting outside a Starbucks. So I would say military or similar organisation training. Always wears a cap when outside.”

He taped several times on the tablet, clearly thinking. “They are very few shots. If this guy is as busy as we think he is, then he should point his fine face outside way more often. But no…”

Eli knew where Kogane was going with that.

“He knows where the cameras are, and the cap is to conceal his identity –partially at least-.”, she finalised his thought.

And knowing every cameras precise position was not an amateur would do, nor angling his face to conceal at best his features. He had to be someone of trust, someone of the higher ups. Or friend with one of them. That dude was the connection to the Red Hood, through someone else they would discover along the way, or through the direct connection this guy probably had. Typing it to have it read out loud later by the reading software she had helped design, she hummed. Tonight’s patrol was going to be information gathering about this guy. She’ll listen to the stories in the bars of Crime Alley, and try to get a scent. Which would be incredibly difficult, since she had no clothes to start with. Maybe the drug use? No definitely not, if the guy was high up, then he’ll have to know not to touch the merchandise. And not speaking of the half million people using the same drug she’ll have to track down and physically pat down to get the mensuration and weight. Too much physical contact for her and there only was a slim chance that the guy would let himself be handled, even drugged.

“Any physical features worth remembering?”

Kogane jerked his head up, before letting it sink back down to squint at the screen. Silence followed, only interrupted by the Eli’s nails clacking on the keyboard, furiously entering any kind of information, begin of a pattern, places where he had been seen most, anything to understand him and analyse him. Suddenly, Kogane’s smell shifted, getting stronger for a few seconds, and his vertebrae cracked slightly as he brought his upper body closer to the tablet. The fluttering of his lashes sounded like indecision or surprise, but his whole demeanor screamed _found something and it’s gonna be interesting._ Turning her head to him, to signal him she was listening, she stopped her typing altogether.

“He has a tattoo on both upper arms.” Kogane was victorious. His heart was beating hard, breaths a little ragged like he had been suck punched. But his lips made a definite stretched sound when he smiled, lifting himself from her desk and marching to his. “And I know who did them.”

And he said nothing else.

°^°

Turns out, when Kogane was deep into something, he forgot everything and anyone around him.

He had muttered something about the tattoo parlor not being opened today and had stormed off to his desk to watch all footage of the café the dude had been spotted first. Something about determining a pattern. She had just waved goodbye to him sarcastically, and got completely ignored. Guess the cleaning would only be left to her. And it did, her back was hurting after cleaning Commissar Noah’s desk, taking a sweet pleasure at rearranging his folders in piles (she can’t do much more really) and hiding all the coins she could find to prevent any use of the industrial coffee machine. _This shit will give someone a cardiac arrest one day, I swear._

She had tried to get Kogane’s attention, really. She had pushed _inadvertently_ the mug on Kogane’s desk down, only to be patted on the head by aforementioned officer, a “Bad, Cosmo.” falling off his lips, completely oblivious it was her refraining to bite him in the thigh, _hard_. The whole crew had found it hilarious. And Eli knew her vengeance would be terrible, something including naked photos and an embarrassed Keith Kogane.

On the upside, his focusing just resolved a problem. If he was so deep into the investigation, then he’ll completely forget about her not getting home by the conventional route. But damn didn’t it sting a little when he had murmured mostly to himself that watching the footage was something only he could do. Yes, she was blind, fuck you very much, and she was the only one allowed to point that out. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, just too entrapped by his work to think about his surroundings, and she was angry with herself to see a simple comment make her doubt her place in this new environment. Had it happen back in Europe, she would’ve shrugged it off and go back to work. No biggie.

The meeting went uneventfully. Commissar Noah just wanted to brief everyone on the new organisation. Since Gotham was the playground for a gang war, the Police Force had decided to assign the case to several officers in the whole city and form a new task force, falling under the Central’s jurisdiction. They would be Officers coming from Blüdhaven, Crime Alley, Miller Harbor. Even the station normally surveying Arkahm Asylum would participate to help and give more insight to Penguins actions. Eli had been designed as the profiling psychologist for this case, and she could already sense some disagreements with that status. But the real problems would come tomorrow when every officers would meet each other here, the station being the closest to the heavier of the fights. She had completely forgotten to eat, stressed out by that, preferring to go back to her desk and try not to think about the mess it would become when everyone would know she was blind.

Now she had left the police station feeling a bit down, her computer linked to several cameras around cafés serving no alcohol. The one the guy had been first did not serve any, and Eli was just making a wild guess here. But if he was as fit as Kogane had described him, and the reports said he had been in complete command of his faculties when he had smashed a few heads together, then it maybe wasn’t a coincidence. Her algorithm would analyse every face, build or behaviour and compare with the data she entered had about him, but she’ll have to double check the matches with Isaac’s help. She wasn’t really teambuilding with Kogane, but he was on the tattoo trail and she also wanted to show him –literally- that he wasn’t _the only one_ capable of observing someone. _She just used different methods, duh._

It was all planed, but she’ll have to be with Isaac to see the results, and tonight she needed to blow some steam off before coming home. Hit the drums or jump from rooftops kind of steam. And search for any whispers about a bulky man terrorising the thugs. _Or find the Red Hood and make sure he is alright. I want…no, I **have** to know._

Dictating a message to Isaac, she told him she was still at the station and it looked like she would be spending most of the night here. But she would greet him in the morning at home. Isaac knew that she was going vigilantisming, but if the faint buzz in Isaac’s room and in the living room was anything to go by, then you could never be too careful. You never know who’s listening to you. 

Tapping her cane on the cement, she made her way to the Korean store, buying beef bulgogi for at least three persons and ate it on the way to her hangar, careful to avoid any streets marked by the buzzing and cracking of the cameras. The last thing she needed was one the cops in the station see her enter a seemingly abandoned hangar and flip their shit. She had already ruled out buses and metros, because she didn’t like enclosed spaces with strangers, so it only left her with her own two feet and a damn good motivation to walk 45 minutes, with a cane and a too light jacket for her liking. In the freezing cold, at least for her, the winter weather only being around zero, something normal in Gotham. But spiders don’t like the cold, even in summer. Shitty genetics.

The street was mostly quiet and the inhabitants had started to call her the _la araña invedente,_ because, and she quoted “ _Cariñó_ , you always show up when it’s dark. You’re blind, but your eyes are as _negro_ as an oil slick. You’re too damn skinny-didn’t your _Mama_ feed you better?- and your limbs in that coat makes them look like the legs of a spider. So you’re a blind spider, _bebe,_ with a fog of mystery following you.” Eli didn’t really have the heart to tell her most of the _arañas_ were blind, or at least just aware of movements or forms, but would not be able to rely on sight to survive and hunt. Miranda was also a force to be reckoned with, so she had just nodded and took the enormous box of sweets with her without a word of protest.

Saluting the kids with a wave of her cane, only to turn and rat them out loud to their parents because it was damn late and they should be indoors helping for dinner or finishing homework, she finally reached the hangar around eight o’clock. Judging by the electricity in the air, the streets lamp not destroyed had been long ago switched on. Tapping her code and scanning her handprint, she entered her nest, her spider’s web, without bothering to turn on the light.

Man, she should really clean up.

Files littered the floor, audio files and papers alike, leaving just enough space to have a traced path for her to use, minimising the risk of stepping on one. And incidentally trip on it. Her ass in the air and nose broken because of an undetected scrap of plastic, that could be a beautiful sight. The files on the Triade were the only ones organised, linked to the recent events in Europe.

Her workbench had a ton of unwashed towels, the smell of sweat, blood and something she knew but decided to leave it unidentified, infiltrated her nose and made her sneeze. Placing her cane on the wall nearest the front door, her coat fell down, followed by her shoes and socks, the cold cement floor making her flinch at first. Careful where she put her feet, she reached her desk, pushed a button on the side of the wood.

A compartment opened. The chemicals needed for her fluids were already measured, ready to be mixed, all lined in little bottles, the stickers on them having different forms to prevent her from opening the lid and take a sniff to recognise it. _And get high at the same time_. Pulling her sleeves up, she took two different bottles and connected them to her web shooters, transferring the liquids from one to the other, careful not to mix them. Finished, she shook her wrists to assess the level of the fluids now in her web shooters. Hearing just a small movement of air in the two compartments, they were charged at their maximum.

Web fluids? Check. Shoes off? Check. She started to climb on the wall, sticking both hands and feet on the panel. This moment of the night, during the preparation before going out, this was one of the best. Being upside down, with no light-headed feeling, because spiders can be upside down or downside up as they _motherfreaking_ _pleased,_ and be able to stick on any surfaces. Eli came to a stop at the intersection of the roof and the wall she currently on. Turning herself to be braced on four limbs with her front facing the void, she clicked her tongue one time.

The mental image that came back gave her a gap of ten meters, her cache being hidden in the roof, in the middle of the room, accessible by spidersticky only. The rush came back, with the promise of suiting up and taking out in the night, to use the full capability of her skills. And to eat chili dogs on the roof of the orphanage. Especially the chili dogs. Bracing herself, her legs tightened and she jumped.

She caught the concrete beam, and one somersault later, her two feet rested on it while she worked the security panel and opened the cache. The suit that got out was clean – _thank god for open water and black soap-_ and mostly dry. Her button down shirt and ripped jeans got quickly replaced by her night wear: sports bra –not that she really needed one with the _absence_ of breasts she had, but some extra padding never hurt anybody- under her black Kevlar collar shirt. The design was thanks to Isaac, who had also given her the idea of protecting her spine and front by sewing together skiing protection for the back and along the ribs on her shirts. Gave the landings on rooftops with stones littering them a softer edge. No more bruises that would a pain in the ass until they healed few minutes later. Little blades were on either sides of her arms to be able to cut through her webs without problems.

A pair of tights (protection against the cold. Not a fashion victim. Kevlar was warm enough, but her budget didn’t allow her pants to be made of the same fabric) and pants followed, tucking the shirt in them. The knee padding and form was something she loved, allowing her to move completely freely without having the feeling something was clinging to her skin – _unlike someone who has a **skin-tight** suit, and you can feel every **inc…** -_

Nope, not thinking about that. The pouches of her pants were filled with some sweet treats –super metabolism, remember? -, recharge of web fluids if needed and a bo staff. The mask was already stashed, ready to be put on when going out. Eli crouched, hands and feet on the beam, and moved by muscle memory only, having already mentally mapped out the entire hangar, piece by piece. She jumped head first, her hands made contact with the concrete, but she threw her legs upwards to use more kinetic energy and avoid breaking a bone. One, two, three rounds off and she pushed on her arms to stick her feet to the wall, ending attached parallel to the ground with only the soil of her feet keeping her from falling 7 meters down. Not that it could hurt her, but sticking and unsticking was a trick of the mind needing regular practice, so falling down would mean she wasn’t at the top of her game tonight.

The next two hours were spent warming up, throwing herself from one side to the other, alternating evasive moves and close combat. She came up with several escape plans if any of the Bats – especially the one with the rigid cowl and the mechanical wings that clinked every now and again, Red Robin? Who was bloody stubborn- were to go after her ass, like it had happened several times after she interrupted mugging or rapes. Rooftop tag had been _on._ But he never went close enough to get an accurate description, none of them did.

Her Spider sense had been going crazy the first time she heard him approach several miles away, speaking through his com about the chase he was in and _where she was the prey_ , alerting her that the Bat smelling like coffee and tech was one of the dangerous ones. Infrared, hacking into cameras and spreading the word in the streets that she was threat to Gotham were all part of a bigger trap he had designed. He was trying to make her stumble and catch her at her lowest. But sadly for him, _she_ was a spider, and traps were her forte. Especially the ones done in _silence_.

She knew that a woman was supervising their operations, and was a damn good hacker. This ‘’O’’ had actually helped Red Robin during one chase, triangulating her position by ruling out all the streets where cameras worked, giving him a route. It had been really fun to hear him stomp and rage while hanging upside down _just above_ his head, the irrational part of her brain begging to stretch her hand and just ruffle his feathers. _Just a tiny little bit. Hearing him scream would be so funny_. One day, she’ll do it, and Red Robin better not be cardiac. But going back at the matter at hand: ‘O’ would be her peace offering if things went too far, if they started to close on her. They weren’t coming closer unless she wanted them to- unlike Isaac said every time she had to list every injury she had inflicted one herself to evade them-, so no need to cross that bridge just yet.

She wiped off the sweat covering her forehead, took a good sniff under her left armpit – _put on some deodorant, you forgot this morning, and crime fighting while smelling like a dumpster is never good for the mental health-,_ put on some deo like her conscience told her to, and put on the mask, not caring if her hair would be tussled when she would get it off. Why do you think a buzz cut was best? No hair in the face, no eating your hair under the mask, no hair tickling the crook of your ass you have to pull out, less time spent under the shower to unknot it all and the most important of all, it didn’t give the mask a weird shape. Her military boots followed. It restrained her capacity to climb a little bit, but between wearing thin layers to allow stickiness but break a toe while landing or be at disadvantage every time someone had thicker shoes than her, and be able to stomp faces without worrying about her toenails, it wasn’t really a tie. 

All set, she exited through the window, making sure no one was around and no cameras were turned in direction of the hangar. Should she be searching for a potential threat establishing in her city, she’d search for any locals, hangars, tunnels big enough to hold training mats, working desk, sleeping area and R&D department. And Red Robin was many thing, but he had proved he wasn’t stupid.

She’ll have to search if a tracking satellite was directed at Gotham City. Then she’ll know if they were really using everything to find her. Staying in the shadows, close to the nearby buildings, she climbed the fire escape, checked the breathing of the kids sleeping behind the wall – _one is sick, lungs and throat a little occluded. The other has one of their mom’s shirt clutched in their hand. Whimpers. Conclusion: Nightmares. One of the parent will be up soon if they continue, so move-._

Eli reached the rooftop by sticking to the side of the building, only using her upper limbs. Letting her legs live their lives for a bit, she concentrated on the sensation of her muscles clenching underneath her skin, a smile growing only bigger and bigger at the number of stories she was up. Placing a foot on the edge of the roof, the smell of fresh rain hit her in the nose, with a sour undertone stinking fear. Taking a big breath, she focused on that stench and a trail appeared on the mental map she had of Gotham, tracing different routes she could use to go down there.

The time it had taken her to memorise then entire city was so worth it now.

She took off in the night, win rushing at her ear, her senses warning her for moving objects, her mental image always shifting with every turn, spin and leap across the rooftops. the depth, the form of buildings detached themselves on the dark repalcing her vision span, hollow or filled depending on their molecular nature. Running at full speed, she jumped without shooting a web and landed with perfect balance on a lifting crane, in a crouch.

The soil of her boots kept her from slipping as she stretched her senses. A cacophony of laughs, cries, screams of tires, food and sex entered her brain and she began to filter them all while her sense of danger buzzed under her skin. The fear was still there, and was being overwhelmed by other smells, one of gun powder and excitement. She stayed on that trail because her subconscious had already chosen her path route and this person clearly was on her list, so it was no use to fight it now. From the crane, she webbed to the building in front of it, and swung to another.

She didn’t stop swinging, keeping herself in movement, staying in the rhythm of _shoot… And squeeze. Shoot....And squeeze._ Her senses didn’t pick up the presence of any Bats near her swinging area, and normally they wouldn’t be able to retrace her route, because her webs were designed to evaporate in the five minutes following. It was a risk, she knew. She could get stuck and be dropped by her own designs. But it was better than to be captured and observed. No thank you. _Been there, done that._ Not to mention she wouldn’t be hurt from a fall that high.

Nearing the source of that fear, she started to make out sounds. Sounds that didn’t bode well for the person in danger. A gun clicked faintly, and she could hear the assaulted muffle a scream under something. _Their hands or maybe a cloth. They are either already constricted or backed in a corner._ Her skin prickled when she flattened herself on the side of the wall near the scene. From the breathings, and the smells, they were four against one. _The one smelling like M &M’s-> gun: one bullet down. Wears a silencer. The three others: McDonald’s and Axe sweat-> crowbars, B.A.R.F. -> baseball bat. Assaulted hurt in the right leg. No artery touched, breathing hazy, but no concussion. Unfocused. Most likely to pass out. _

It wasn’t perfect, but if the victim passed out, she would be able to wrap those goons by their underwear and leave them like that until the Bats picked them up. The victim would be brought to a hospital by a _mysteriously clad person_ (she, Eli, mostly sane from body and soul) and would most likely wake up in a bed in the intensive unit. No biggie, make it a quickie.

The scent of excitement fed off the fear the victim displayed, and the aggression in the four goons grew stronger and stronger with each steps towards the silhouette backed into a corner. The hormones released were stanching the air, and she was getting slowly high on endorphins and adrenaline that weren’t hers. Eli brought her elbows near her ribs, hands flat and fingers open. The rational and irrational part of her brain agreed on this: _it was going to be fun._ She braced her legs on the wall for a jump and waited for the moment to strike, already counting the seconds before the brain of the victim would overload and make them faint.

This moment came, and at the second the victim fell backwards on the garbage bins behind them, her senses went havoc, blaring warnings from all sides. The goons stopped dead in their track, as if sensing the danger like her. A faint tinge of annoyance popped in her brain, like what was happening before her was something that had since long lost any savour, making her wonder where that thought came from. Deciding to wait for the outcome, she flattened herself once again, merging with the shadows, slowing her breathing and heartbeat.

A gunshot rang through the air, followed by a faint _whizz_ , hurting her sensitive eardrums and one of the goons fell down screaming like a pig being slaughtered. _Hit to the sides, broken ribs. The fall must have dislocated his shoulder. Hand hurt by a throw weapon. Not much blood though. Rubber bullets._ A whiff of gunpowder and cigarettes hit her nostrils, but she forced herself to remain imperceptible, letting the information pass through her brainpan and be stocked, to be processed later. Weapons fell down, and the cavalcade indicated her the three remaining had discovered they had unfinished business to attend to.

Once the street was silent, her irrational part started to stir, and looked around. She screamed in anger at the empty alley, _she had called fucking dibs!_ They were her _preys_ , and this newcomer, however familiar they smelled, would bloody pay.

But the anger took a backseat when her rational part offered quite promptly the missing information, coupled with the not-so-stranger starting to talk.

“O? I’ve ‘n injured civilian, losin’ blood. No serious damage, a bullet in the leg. One bad guy down, broken ribs, dislocat’ shoulder ‘nd a meanie injurie ‘n the righ’ hand. Think ya can call the cops fer me and the medics? I’ve got som’ baddies to catch.” Was enunciated through distorted vocal cords, the sound too transformed to come alone from a human throat. _Helmet._

O’s answer got lost in the static as Eli zeroed her attention on the male that was putting his weapons back in their holsters. After having swiped the area visually- the cracking of his neck being one of the clues- , he leaned down to check on the pulse of the victim. She unconsciously started to growl, her all being now focused on one thing only. Him.

_Red Hood._

_Prey._

_Heat._

_Mate._

And a question that had been nagging her for the past few weeks, wearing her down, every time she heard Nightwing speak, every time she remembered at the most inappropriate moments the smell of their skins, their ragged breaths, the hand _clenching_ on her neck, like she was really part of this wonder, when she walked over the edge. One question holding most of her world in its palm: _Fine?_

Well damn, fuck her sideways. _Yes, please_. She was deep in the shit with him showing up.

Eli assessed the situation, trying to weigh the pros and the cons of moving with a trained-by-assassins vigilante in her near vicinity. But she needed physical proof of his wellbeing, there was no compromising about that. Not just the steady heartbeat, the deep voice containing no pain, or how he moved like a predator closing on his prey. Her instincts clashed violently against one another, one screaming to catch him and drag him far away from any danger, to punish him for making her worry –not that he could’ve known, but irrationality being what it is, such questions are _irrelevant_ , honey- the other clawing its way in saying he _was_ the danger and being near him would only bring Isaac trouble. Fight or flight instincts were _on._

Crawling closer despite the hurricane in her head, she took in Red Hood securing a bandage around the victim’s leg, the smell of fresh blood lessening with the rustle of fabric, and hosting them up in a more comfortable position by the sound of garbage being moved around. The mental image she had showed him on his toes, crouched near the victim, his back turned at her.

The victim wasn’t in immediate danger and help was on its way. Red Hood – by the report to O- was going to go AWOL again to catch the rest. She couldn’t risk that. Not when she didn’t know if how he moved was real or just a mask to hide real pain underneath.

But dragging him away was not something she wanted to do. If she kidnapped him, the rest of the Batfamily would be on her trail, breathing down her neck. And Isaac didn’t need that. Moving out was out of the equation until she found what she had been looking for in Gotham, and he had finally started to settle in. Maybe it could be the home they never had.

Damn. Decisions, decisions.

But the choice was done for her when she heard some commotion and a distinct _clunk_ of a heavy weapon being armed, few streets from here. Streets that had a perfect view to the one RH was crouching next to the victim.

Then she heard the _whoosh_ of the weapon being fired, and realisation hitting her like a train at full speed.

_Rocket launcher._

Any rational thoughts left the main brain building, and she concentrated on what was _hers_. And _hers_ was in the line of danger, his head turning to the sound of the missile coming, muscles getting tight, one hand on the unconscious victim’s shoulder, who’s chances of surviving went suddenly down to _none._ Like him.

**_Mine_ ** _is not getting away._

She didn’t think twice anymore. She just lunged, consequences be damned.

°-°

They came from nowhere.

The night had been pretty quiet, especially when you consider the ‘let’s verify who’s got the biggest’ mess that had been going on between the mob bosses loyal to him, and Penguin. Said Penguin had an alliance with the Triade and was an even more pain in the ass now that he had the resources to attain every district of the city. They had found uses of the new drug everywhere, and now he, Jason, had to be on damage control. For several weeks, he had to wake up and just _know_ , something else had happened during the two-three hours he indulged himself. And _because_ of that, his love life had taken a backseat. He had to go under for some time, and when being under, you can’t just call your lover to catch up. No no, bad for the reputation of Big, Bad and Broody Redie Hoodie.

Come to think of it, he was Little Red Riding Hood for the color and name, but the Wolf in character. _I’m a fairy tale, bitch._

Roy had to tie him up more than one time to get coffee outside of the main building, just to get some vitamin D with that excuse of a sun that shone on Gotham. He was getting snappy and trigger happy because of the sleep deprivation and just fed up by this whole mess.

Tim was the workaholic, not him. But those persons had accepted his terms and were now under his protection, so he couldn’t back off. Not to mention, if Penguin had no one to stop him, the Triade would have won. They had tested their hard skills when they sent the building into the stratosphere. But this tactic was more of a soft skill. Let others do your job.

Man, was he really quoting Damian’s economic class? He clearly hadn’t had enough sleep.

Like he said, the night was going pretty smooth, and he had just stopped a mugging and most likely following murder when a dread had run up his spine. He had felt anger, like someone had stepped on his territory and he was going to skin them alive for that. Which was strange because the street wasn’t even _in_ Crime Alley. But the moment he had spoken to Oracle, the feeling had changed to pure confusion, to settle on determination. He had the feeling he didn’t know himself.

He had shrugged those sensations- _what an idiot ladies and gentlemen-_ , but the man in front of him really needed medical attention, so he had taken the decision to do just a visual sweep of his surroundings before bending down.

What a mistake.

The goons came back _en force_ , with renewed stupidity to actually pull out a freakin’ rocket launcher up their sleeve and _fire_ it. It was clear that this plan had been done of the bat and they weren’t actually expecting anyone during their little mugging, but now that the occasion presented itself to off the Red Hood, they weren’t going to let it pass. There was a gang war going on after all.

But an honest to God _rocket launcher_. In a narrow street. With him and an already injured person. And behind him the orphanage. With little shits running around who had done nothing wrong to the world and _surely_ didn’t deserve a missile waking them up in the middle of the night with fire and exploded peoples or limbs.

In a split second, Jason had to decide whether or not he would try to redirect the rocket, but at the cost of maybe his life and the unconscious victim. Or let it hit the orphanage and pray that no kids were snooping around in that side of the building in the middle of the night. Either way, people were going to die.

But before he could take action, that choice was robbed from his hands. 

One moment he was going to straighten up from his crouching position, the next there were legs trapping his arms against his ribcage, an upper body slamming into his neck and a distinct _schlack_ when the dude he had saved got wrapped in a white material heavily resembling spider webs, like a cocoon, and ended on the back of Jason’s mystery assaulter. But before he could even twist an eyebrow up, call his dad, _anything_ , they went airborne, making Jason’s stomach churn by the sudden change of dimension.

They secured on a rooftop just above the street, and Jason got let down like a mere potato sack, the victim falling in his lap. Silence crouched in front of him, touching his helmet, as if trying to determine if he was injured, completely ignoring the danger below.

He started frantically to shout, panic clawing at his throat with the knowledge that kids were in danger and he was too late to act. But with the quick reaction Silence had to grab him and drag him out of danger, those kids still had a chance. Silence _had_ to understand. 

“The _orphanage_ , shit! Those kids are…” he screamed at the tiny vigilante, trying to get an eye contact with the absence of any lenses for him to look on. Realisation made the breathing he could observe beneath the mask still. He didn’t need to end his sentence for Silence to get the urgency of the situation.

Silence had a static time near zero and immediately turned around, shouting something incoherent, arms and wrists stretched out, one in front of them, the other behind. Webs exited their wrists. They quickly wrapped some around their waist and secured themselves on three different points of the roof. The moment the other web touched the rocket, they shot forward, only to be kept on the roof by the line they had created from a scratch and their feet digging in the concrete.

The floor cracked under the pressure, but the focal point of all the contrary forces where concentrated in Silence. The webs around their waist tightened impossibly, resisting the pull of a rocket at full speed.

Jason could hear bones breaking, and Silence screamed in pain, their right arm now clearly dislocated, spine bent in an impossible way, but them still _holding on_. Their other arm came forward, shot a line on the rocket too, gluing on the underside of it. 

The kinetic force of the rocket was too much to be stopped completely, but Jason quickly understood what Silence was trying to do when he saw them pull on the web. Due to their location, Silence couldn’t direct it to explode airborne without risking hitting any buildings. They were redirecting it to explode in front of the orphanage, not _on_ it. Another scream exited Silence’s mouth, voice raw, filled with anger and determination, as they pulled with all their might on the web, tipping the rocket’s nose down, angling it towards the ground. The change of angle resulted of the web around them to shift downward and tighten lower on their waist. The rocket had a stutter, and gained a burst of speed before hitting the ground. Silence got pulled forward again, and Jason heard the deafening _crack_ of their spine ringing into the night.

_Broken spine._

Movements sluggish, as if they were at the verge of losing consciousness, a blade shot out of Silence’s upper arm and cut all the webs, releasing them of the webs trap. They were completely free of their movement, half unconscious because of the pain, at the edge of a building. No time for second guessing. Jason pushed the unconscious man off his lap and slid to the now limp form that was three milliseconds away from being blasted into oblivion. 

Silence fell back in Jason’s outstretched arms as the world exploded beneath them.

Rolling over, he grabbed the cocoon and fit the man under him too, protecting them both with his body. Heat enveloped them, making the air unbreathable, lungs shrinking with the blast and Jason’s world went white for crucial seconds. He shrunk on himself to avoid them being hit with debris, but thankfully with at this height, none came to the roof. Or none hit them, he couldn’t say for sure. The whole scene had lasted a couple of seconds, but Jason had the feeling it had been years.

Opening an eye, he refused to look down, not wanting to know if it had worked or not. He had other priorities, mainly the two under him passed out like lights. Hitting Oracle on the coms, he swiftly put two fingers on Silence’s jugular to check their pulse. _Weak, but steady._ He was more worried about their injuries.

“O? I’ve a situation here. Shit hit the fan in front ‘f the orphanage, street went _kapaow,_ I need cops ‘n firefighters here _now._ ”

“Already on it. Casualties?”, Barbs’ cool voice helped him calm down, as he turned to the man, let’s call him _Fred_ , still cocooned, but several parts were falling down, to check his pulse. By the blood staining the white of the webs, Fred was still losing blood but nothing too serious. His pulse was steady, yet he remained awfully silent and unconscious to the world. 

“I’ve no idea. Silence made the rocket explod’ before ‘t could hit a more populated area. But the blast sent us all flyin’.” Movements below him. Said Silence was coming back to their senses.

“Silence? They’re here?”, Tim’s voice rang in the com, surprised, before his voice laced with determination. “Hood, don’t you _dare_ let them escape.”

A scream of agony drowned Jason’s response, Silence bucking under him, writhing in pain. Their scream went to a high that was inhuman, ending in a shrill, causing everyone –even the ones listening in the coms- to protect their ears out of instinct. They began to shake uncontrollably, and Jason had to put one leg between theirs and push the injured shoulder down to avoid her- because, yes, apparently Spiderling lying under him was female. The _absence_ of anything destroyable between her legs led him to this conclusion- injure herself further. One of her hand shot out, grabbing Jason’s upper arm, and _tightened._

Pain flared in his arm, and for a split second, he thought Silence had broken it. With the force she had used to redirect a _rocket at full speed_ , Jason wouldn’t be really surprised if she was able to break bones by grip alone.

But strangely, the pain dulled and moved on his body, as if it had a mind on its own. It settled on the small of his back, between his hips, and grew there stronger and stronger. It grew so much that Jason had to keep himself from screaming too. All his nerves were on fire, and he couldn’t dull the pain, didn’t even know _where_ it came from.

Clenching his teeth, he reached behind him, searching for an injury, _anything,_ and only retrieved a glove stainless of any blood. His spine wasn’t crooked, and he could move his limbs just fine, no paraplegia coming. But he got his answer when an unknown voice spoke to in his mind.

_Pain. Hurts. Back._

The voice was too high to be his, the tone husky and raw, the whine so light he had almost missed it. But reaching behind Silence, carefully placing his hand on the exact same spot, he could feel vertebrae cracking and snapping together, her spine clearly in a wrong position. The small movement of his hand got the whine in his head to grow louder, earning an angry scream laced with clicks and shrills from Silence underneath him.

Holy shit, Batman. Her spine was reconstructing right before his eyes, after being bent and broken by the pull of the rocket. And Silence was sharing how _painful_ that was through a mind bond. Well damn, the night was really beginning to be interesting.

He observed how Silence’s back grew back in place, the process almost like how a spine would’ve healed naturally, but sped up twenty times. It was normal that it hurt like a _motherfucker_ , all that pain condensed in one moment. Silence stayed -well- silent, too exhausted to have the force to scream in pain anymore, even when Jason ran his hand up and down a few times, counting the bumps he could feel through the shirt and squeezing the skin of the small of her back to test the nerve endings. She was too out of it, her head lolling from one side to the other, puffs of breath escaping her mask and brushing his helmet, creating fog on the lenses.

A whine escaped her- the voice was another argument to that. Maybe trans, but biologically _clearly_ female. _And damn tiny_ \- when he pressed down hard, his glove discarded to get a better feeling. She squirmed, as if trying to get more of that pressure, or get away from it. But Jason wasn’t going to back away. Never in his life had he seen a healing factor that fast. Pressing further to search for any scars or injuries remaining, he opened his hand wide and splayed it on her back. He got a sigh in return and Silence relaxed further, muscles around her spine uncramping slightly, the grip on his arm lessening. He could feel the bones still shift, and there was also her shoulder she had to worry about.

He wondered how much energy she was burning for her healing factor to work so quickly. She’ll maybe need something to eat before her healing factor would kill her by using too much energy and worn her out completely.

 _Warm. Need warm._ The voice was sluggish at best, Silence still too out of it to grasp the fact she was offering precious information to someone who had chased her for several weeks on a family hunt.

Warmth? Alright, sounded like a plan. He could do that and prevent her from dying. _And then questions. I have so many questions._

He sat up, and reached to Silence’s form resting on the roof. But the moment he slipped his hand under the Kevlar shirt to get a better grip, he accidently brushed the open wounds caused by the webs around her waist. In a jerk, Silence bolted, trying to escape his grip, thoughts going completely ablaze.

_Hurt. Danger. Don’t trust. Trouble. **Red Robin**._

But another string of thoughts came running, giving him whiplash. _Need warm. Recover. Red Hood warmth. Bond._

He had the feeling he was the first to witness one would call the inner voice and instincts discussing in someone’s head. Silence got on one elbow, trembling so much he dreaded she would flatten her own nose against the floor if she stayed too long in that position. Wrapping his arms around her, he waited for a blow or broken fingers, but Silence went completely limp in his arms, her head falling back to the floor. Grasping her jaw before she could make a pancake out of her own face, he slowly brought her closer to him.

Disabling the electric shocker on his chest plate, he placed her on him, legs tucked under her, basically sitting on his crossed legs. Her head landed with a _thump_ on his shoulder and she stopped moving. Only the tiny breaths he could hear comforted him that he didn’t make stupid mistake. Wrapping his right arm around her shoulders, he felt her hiss quietly before remembering. _Her fucking shoulder._ Leaving it untreated would only cause her unnecessary pain.

“Hey, Insectosaurus.” He murmured, rubbing her back up and down, “Ya need ta get ya arm back in its socket or won’t be abl’ ta move ‘t.”

He got no acknowledgement in return, but Silence merely stretched her right arm straight and slammed her injured shoulder _hard_ in his chest, making him feel he had hit a brick wall, hitting the chest plates who hardened in response to the assault. She clearly had counted on it, because her arm got back in her shoulder’s socket with a sickening _pop_. No screams escaped her this time, and Jason got the feeling she had not screamed because her shoulder had been injured the first time. The webs around her waist could have done more damage than he assessed.

She flopped back on his chest, and turned her head in his neck. Her left arm snaked behind his back, under his jacket – did he mention he had to replace his _favorite_ jacket that went in confetti when the docks exploded with the Triade trying to kill them? No? Because he had to, and was still pissed about that- and rested on the middle of his back. She shifted several times, trying to find a better position, digging occasionally those pointy thing skinny people have in their asscheeks in his thighs.

A whine escaped her a few seconds later and she turned in his lap to face him, nuzzling her face against his helmet. Her left hand went to grab his shoulder and she pushed his head harder with hers, letting it fall back every time on him. That single movement was using the few forces she had left. Jason had the sensation of being with a new-born puppy who wanted his attention.

She grew seemingly tired of waiting for a reaction on his part, and her left hand snaked its way to his neck to clamp down, _hard._ The message was clear: _don’t move_. Her other hand went from his back to his helmet, taking in the form, fingers travelling tiredly back and forth from the front to the back. She was searching for something. Silence hummed happily as he felt her finger press a button near his jaw, and the whole helmet opened.

Her fingers were still lingering around his jaw as he went to grab her wrist and yanked it to get her attention.

“What da ya think ya’re doin’, Spiderdwarf?”, he snarled. If she was trying to unmask him, she had another thing coming then just a broken spine. She didn’t respond, verbally or mentally, just raised her other hand and levelled her own mask up to the bridge of her nose.

Now that was getting creepy. _This is not a remake. So don’t kiss me._

An exhausted snort escaped the lips he could now see. Shit, she had heard that. So it meant he could also send his thoughts. Interesting, if not going to be an absolute pain in the ass to conceal his identity with this new variable thrown into his lap. She pouted, and her trapped her hand pushed through his hold, dragging her gloved hand on his cheek. Cheek that was warm, at the contrary of her hand, which was _freezing cold_.

_Warm._

She sighed sleepily at his realisation. His uniform didn’t allow body heat to escape, and she needed warmth to get her energy levels back to normal. It was like a blood transfusion, the process just different. She stifled at that, and he silently wondered how much of his thoughts she could hear. Turning back to the matter at hand, he released her wrist and wrapped his hand on her head. Jason pressed her face down the crook of his neck, pulling on the collar to leave it unprotected. She snuggled closer, pressing her cheek on the side of his jaw. The sudden cold contact on his neck made him suppress a shudder, but it didn’t deconcentrate him enough to not hear his com coming back to life.

“I’m on scene.”, Dick’s voice. Silence perked up at that, her head turning in his neck, her lips brushing the skin of his jugular. “Hood, where are you?”

Muffling a yawn, Jason resettled with Silence in his lap, before hitting his com. “Rooftop. I’m comin’ down ‘n a few. Start to help the authorities ‘r whatever, Big Wing.”

“Injury status.”, oh how he loved when Dick went complete business voice even though Jason knew he only wanted to bolt where he was and hug the shit out of him. Made him snap all the better.

“No injuries. Few bruises, nothin' threatenin'. I’m fine, N.” to that last statement Silence huffed, loud enough to be heard through the com.

“Clearly not injured. But he has some busted neurons, because Silence is sitting in his lap.”, Tim’s voice was playful, even when he dropped in a crouch in front of them, bo staff in hand. He was ready for a fight.

Silence stilled completely, her muscles going tight with apprehension. The fuzzy feeling in front his brain dulled progressively, her thoughts becoming more and more distant.

She was trying to regain her bearings to flee and the first opportunity.

Sighing, he hoisted her up, clenching his arm around her to get the point across. _You’re not going anywhere._ Looking at Red Robin, he undid his left holster, letting his gun fall into his hand. He didn’t fire it –not yet- but the target was clear.

“Back off, Replacement.”

Tim’s face was priceless, and Jason would’ve loved to get it on camera if not for the fact that he was maybe breaking the fragile trust of his family. Choosing a wanted criminal over the Bats wasn’t really a peace offering, by any standards.

“Okay, Hood. You are in fact injured. You hit your head too hard, and now you’re hallucinating and defending Silence because they promised cookies or some shit.”

 _They_. Tim hadn’t picked on the fact that Silence was a woman. He looked at the vigilante dead in the eyes, deciding to keep that fact a secret for some more.

“They save’ my life. _Twice._ ‘nd tonight they prevented the orphanage to end ‘n star dust, savin’ me, myself ‘nd I along the way too.” He hit his com to get everybody’s attention, making sure that no one would shoot Silence impudently in the knees when she would take off. “For tonigh’, Silence’s off limits. ‘s that clear, birdbrains? They save’ my lif’ for the second time today ‘nd aborted an attack on the orphanage. Because of that, they’re severely injured. So everybody back off, ‘nd you’ll get a’ them when you’ll be on equal ground. _Understood_? “

That last part was directly addressed at Tim, who was gripping his bo staff with white knuckles. His fingers lingered around the safety of his gun, the movement visible enough for Red Robin to get the memo. Silence groaned angrily, and pinched him, clearly not okay with the fact that he was protecting her from his own family.

Big brother had given his opinion and now everyone would conform to it. Yeay to psychological manipulation. Tim didn’t really seem convinced and clearly wanted to try something, his hand flexing his bo staff. When had become Red Hood not that threatening anymore? Ah, right. When he specifically said to Tim that he would never try to end his life again. This and that his left gun was loaded with rubber bullets. Dang it.

But both knew that if Tim tried something now, it would only end with broken trust and discharged weapons. Well, it just meant that he had to be sneaky about it when he’ll slip a tracking chip on Silence. Distract Red Hood with the arrival of Dick, and silently throw a chip to attach itself on Silence’s body armor where it was padded the most. They wouldn’t feel it.

Silence turned to him as much as they could with Jason lurking like a protective pit-bull around them, their body facing him, but their head and eyes still nested on Red Hood’s neck, and began to sign. Tim took several seconds to understand Silence was signing to him in ASL.

Both hand crossed in front of her, palm facing the back of the other hand, the shape making it look like a butterfly. Both palms then joined on their left side, before separating shoulder length, arms bent and palms open.

_Truce?_

Shuffling on his feet, Tim looked down before smiling and holstered his bo staff back in his utility belt. “Alright. For tonight.” He left the _I’ll catch you tomorrow_ unsaid, but the challenge was still there. Whatever would happen after tonight’s truce, he would be coming down raining on Silence, Birdarangs and bo staff flying at every opportunity. They were too dangerous to be left running around without any insight form the Bats.

And if Silence’s smile said anything, teeth bizarrely sharp and the smile feral, their next sign was a clear understanding of the situation.

Left hand forming a B, went from their chin down to their shoulder height. Both hands then flipped two times as if shrugging water of them. _Bitch, please._ And a clear _fuck you_ followed, middle finger raised in Red Robin’s general direction.

Laughing, Jason jostled Silence to get her attention. Her head swivelled back to him, her body going lax.

“Ya two done comparing size?” 

“Not even close.” Was Tim’s cocky answer, and Silence just smiled. The smile of someone who knew something the class wasn’t even aware of. And one day would regret even discovering it.

“Play nice, kids.” N’s voice rang through the coms and on the rooftop as he appeared behind Red Robin, “We have a job to do.”

At the sound of Dick’s voice, Silence had relaxed further, letting herself sigh and accept the warmth coming from Red Hood, but Jason could hear questions and anxiety sweep through her mental wall, flooding in his brain.

_Nightwing. Smells good. Status to us? Trust? Like Red Hood?_

Those thoughts swivelled again and again, before she settled on a _Not now_ of circumstance. Instead, she just nuzzled his jaw in front of his _boyfriend_ and started to purr, her hands gripping tight his upper arms, the only sign she wasn’t completely at ease. The raised eyebrow that came from N promised Jason he would have to explain the _whole_ situation to his significant other, including why he had a dwarf sitting on his lap looking like it was the best seat in the world.

_It **is** the best seat in the world._

Damn it, she could still hear him. So she could mask her thoughts, but the process wasn’t unilateral. If he didn’t mask his, then she could still hear him, even with a mental wall up. Making a mental note to talk to Zatanna about this, he turned to Tim and holstered his .45 back.

“So, what’s the status, Baby Bird?”

Tim glared at him for using that nickname in front of a wanted criminal, but Jason couldn’t give two shits about it. Sighing, the former Robin pulled up a map of the street, and started to explain the dots visible on the projection. “Police and ambulance are on scene. The weapon has been found. The firefighters are controlling the fire, and no everlasting damage has been inflicted to the street.”

Pointing to a specific area. “The building to the sides were damaged, but nothing shattering. Windows in pieces, front paint cracked. There’s a big hole in the street, but the water and electricity conduct weren’t cut by the blast, so it’s a plus. For the orphanage though…” Tim at this point took a big breath, eyes downcast.

_How many casualties?_

“Three kids were playing in the wing. Some game of tag. When the rocket hit the ground, the windows exploded, severely injuring two of them. The third one got killed. She was standing next to the window when it happened and got the worst of it.” Dick’s voice was soft, and he looked like he wanted to apologize. Even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

Jason couldn’t hear her thoughts anymore, a steady beat replacing them, beat who grew more forceful with each seconds. She was angry, and now at war with the goons who did that. _War drums_. Silence stood up shakily, and patted his arm before staggering to the edge of the roof.

Turning around to face them, her left hand touched her chin, palm facing her. She then directed it towards them. _Thank you_.

Even though there was nothing to thank anyone for.

She turned back and completely forgot their existence, her whole body facing the orphanage. Her newly reconstructed spine stood straight – which must hurt like a bitch- and her chin tilted up, jaws clenched. They could hear her tongue click from time to time, the beat in Jason’s head losing in force.

But at the moment a paramedic come out of the orphanage with a body bag, Silence opened her arms and let herself fall headfirst.

Batman was on the same swinging route.

Dick screamed in alarm as he watched the two of them approaching each other at tremendous speed, none of the two diverting from their original course. One mistake or no decision on who would change course and it would be a certain death.

B had detected Silence falling towards him, but seemed indecisive about his next actions. Either way, he was trapped, his grappling hook already shot and in movement. But he didn’t understand why they would try to kill him by pummelling themselves with him to death. Silence didn’t really seem suicidal when he observed them. He’ll have to wait for Silence to make the first move.

Silence gave a jerk of her hips, angling her fall slightly to the left. She bypassed Batman, her mask turned in his direction, focusing his attention to the visible half of her face. The two vigilantes passed each other, one upside down and falling, the other one rising towards his family, worried sick about them.

Three meters away from the ground, Silence shot a web, wrenching herself out the gravity’s pull and swung towards the ambulances. Slowly approaching from the sides, they watched her merge with the shadows, going completely undetected by the police officers. Although one seemed to sense her presence, but couldn’t pinpoint her location as he frantically searched the perimeter, weapon in hand and mullet in the wind. They observed her land and crouch on the ambulance loading the corpse of the little girl, her shoulders slumped and neck low.

She was clearly blaming herself for that.

She stayed until the medic slammed the door shut and knocked on the glass of the ambulance, jumping to the nearby rooftop. She started to run in the direction the shot came from and disappeared into the night, but not after she crunched every bug and tracker B had thrown on her with her bare hands.

A moment passed.

“Spiderdwarf, Hood?” Tim’s voice was curious.

“Metahuman, Timmers. Bendy, superstrong metahuman with webs. And freakin’ tiny.”

°°

On the other side of Gotham, Eli clenched her hand around the meta-cuffs she had subtilized to Batman. _Seriously, that guy has his home in his pockets._ Taking a sharp turn towards the docks, she found the scent again and followed it with cold determination.

She landed in front of the first home of the night. The feral grin was only for herself, laced with pain and wicked pleasure.

_Those bastards are going to pay. Cash. Spider’s word._


	7. they're grace, they ace, and they'll punch you in the face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- I have to know.... 'Merounem' and 'Be a Man', coincidence? I think not.  
> *eyebrow wiggle*  
> -OH COME ON! I WANNA KNOW

The morning after found Eli in the shower, washing away the gore and blood of the night. Warm, the spray was massaging her shoulders, chasing away some tension. A little miracle on Earth.

Reaching for the soap, she winced as her spine shifted and cramped, punishing her for breaking it and doing nothing to help it heal completely by taking a thirty minutes long nap on the bathroom floor this early morning. _What you do to avoid leaving evidence, seriously._

She was finishing rising her hair when Isaac just waltzed right in, butt naked, dragging heavy feet across the bath floor. He made a straight line to the toilet, not even acknowledging her presence, and started taking a piss with a sigh of relief. Eli heavily considered splashing her brother for disrupting her moment of peace with him making sounds coming out of the Niagara Falls.

“Remember the word ‘boundaries’, Squirrel? You know, the one where you see a closed door and hear the shower running and you think ‘Uhm, I’ll wait until she’s finished before ruining her day’?”

A yawn. “Nope. You’re the one who taught me that no boundaries were also a boundary. And I live to annoy you.” 

Eli sighed. She really had raised her brother well. She thunked her head against the wall sleepily, trying to remember the time and not fall back asleep under the Heaven made in spray. “Wait…. What are you doing here? You’re going to be late for school, no?”

“It’s Saturday, ‘Li. I don’t have school on Saturday.” _Yeah, yeah, okay, no need to be smug about it, alright asshole?_ The shower door opened, and Isaac stepped in. “But I have to work on a project for school with a friend, and he’s picking me up in…..ten minutes.” Eli didn’t comment on how his heartbeat picked up at the mention of his so called _friend_. She only hoped they would get at least some work done if this project really existed in the first place. “You, on the other hand, are going to be late if you don’t move in five. Didn’t you have a meeting today?”

Eli responded with a grunt, pushing her head in the stream of water to block out any other sounds from Isaac. Hands smoothed over her back, massaging her hurting spine. Damn it, Isaac knew what happened yesterday. How, she didn’t know, but she would bet on the news or YouTube videos broadcasted. Isaac massaged her neck, gripped her jaws and worked the cricks by moving her head in every direction. The warm shower and the tension leaving her for a few moments made her body initiate the _sleep through WWIII for all I care_.

But then, Isaac –that insensible bastard- decided she had been in here long enough and grabbed her shoulder to drag her out of the shower. _Oh, fuck no._ She clung on the shower head like it was her last hope, sticking her palms on it.

“I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go!” She whined as Isaac almost slipped trying to get a better grip on her.

“Oh, come on, ‘Li! I also need to shower and you’re taking all the space! And you’re going to be super dupper late for your meeting. And then I’m gonna be late because of you!”

“I don’t wanna go to that stupid meeting! There’ll be only morons and overtestosteroned machos who’ll think I’m completely incompetent because A: I’m blind. B: I’m new. C: I’m a woman! So, nah. I don’t wanna. It’s fucking Saturday too! I’m not motivated to hear them waltz around on a Saturday! Who’s motivated on a _Saturday_?!”

A sigh. “ ‘Li. You’re being paid for that remember? And we kinda need the money…”

“Maybe. But not today.”

“ ‘Li…”

“No.”

“Elilian Merounem. Step out of the shower this instant and go to work.”

“Nuh.”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

 _Schlack._ The towel slapped her butt with a very satisfying sound. She jumped in surprise, unsticking from the shower head and landing ungracefully on the tiles. Turning to Isaac –who was laughing as silently as he could muster-, she strained her ears, the water distorting her perception of space with the echoes.

“You wanna play it like that, Squirrel?”

“ _Oh_ _yeah_. Then we’ll be both fashionably late.”

“Then, _bring it on, brother._ ”

The towel came down a second time, but Eli was waiting for it. Dodging, she turned the shower to _freezing cold,_ grabbed Isaac’s arm and pushed him under. His shriek was music to her ears. Picking her own towel off the hanger, she ran out of the bathroom before he could do anything else.

Soon, she heard him step out of the shower, turn the water and follow her to the living room, where she was dripping on the carpet. By the sound of it, he was too and he was _armed._

Twisting her own weapon, she began. “ _Let’s get down to business…”_

His towel made contact with her face. “ _To defeat my sis!”_ , he withdrew his weapon under his armpit and took a combat stance, right arm in front of him with two finger pointed, legs opened hips length. “ _Work is needed of us. So move your ass, and go.”_

Wiping her face, Eli took the same stance, and lunged toward her brother, slapping her ribs and shoulders with her towel on a display of ridiculous dominance. “ ** _You_** _’re the sleepiest bunch I’ve ever met…”_ in three seconds, she was in his space, smiling with her teeth out. “ _…And you’re trying to give **me**_ _lessons?”_ Snorting, she wrapped her towel around his ankle and pulled. He landed on his ass, the sharp _slap_ of naked skin on the cold parquet resounding in the flat. She bent forward, still smiling. “ _Isaac, bud. It’s not how you’ll get someone to sleep with you.”_

“WHAT?!!” Priceless. He was radiating warmth from the tip of his ears to the middle of his chest. Her brother was a full body blusher.

Cocking an eyebrow, she snaked her towel around her waist. “A project, Squirrel?”

“Yeah…? History presentation about the Amerindians, why, rings any bell….?”

“With a _friend_? Who makes your heart go all _doki doki_?”

“Fuck you.”

“No, hun, _fuck him_. That’s the point.”

“I hate you so much.” 

“ _Tranquil as forest, but fire in your core.”_ Eli took his hand and hauled him up. With one swift movement, she pushed him out of her personal bubble, sending him spinning. _“Once you find your center, you are sure to score!”_ She thrusted her hips forward a few times for Isaac to get the meaning.

Isaac took footing on the floor and braced his arms on the wall. His towel hit the parquet with a dangerous sound. “ _You’re spineless, pale, bendy as fuck”_ was gritted through clenched teeth. “ _And_ _you’ve got all the clues.”_ He lunged, towel at the ready. _“And for that, I’ll make a whimpering puddle out of you!”_

“Oh yeah?” Eli faced Isaac head on, and when their bodies connected, she let herself fall on her back. Putting one foot on Isaac’s stomach, she sent him flying over her head. He rolled and landed unscathed on his two feet. Sensing the danger behind him, he fled to the kitchen counter and crouched behind it.

Eli was lounging the living room, using only her normal senses-playing fair for her brother, and sparing the few spares of energy for later today- to determine his position. “ _You’re never gonna catch your breath.”_ She fell on her knees to pat her hand under the couch. Nothing, no breathing on her fingertips. “ _So say goodbye to those who knew you.”_

Then she heard him softly sing the next part. “ _Boy was I a fool in school for cutting gym”_ followed by _“This girl’s got me backed in a corner.”_ Taking measured steps to hinder any noises, she approached the kitchen area. “ _Hope she doesn’t see right through me.”_ She jumped on the kitchen counter, arm stretched with her towel prepared, only to be hit with a mass of muscles coming from above. She lost her footing and fell with Isaac laughing at her, following her in their incoming with the parquet.

Bastard had hidden in the cupboards above the hotplate. How he fits in there with twenty kilos and fifteen cm more than her, she’ll never know.

She hit the ground with a _oof_ , and Isaac stood up with a victorious scream. “ _Now you really wish you hadn’t woke’ up before meeee!”_ Sticking his hand out, he hauled her up, wrapping his towel around her waist. She did the same, and now they were moving in sync, in front of each other, the towels forming a bond.

They swung several times together before untangling their towels from each other and come back as hard as they could to slap them on their own back. Grasping their towel on the middle, the hinges slapped their bodies repeatedly in a rhythm. “ _Merounem. We must be swift as the coursing river._ ” Eli sung, grabbing Isaac’s wrist to get his attention. Always be underestimated. It could save your life and others. And showing people wrong when they least expected it what one of her drugs too.

“ _Merounem. With the force of a great typhoon._ ” There was pride and amusement in Isaac’s voice as he sung that part.

“ _Merounem. With all the strength of a raging fire.”_ That’s them. Funny, quiet sometimes. But no matter what happens, you don’t touch a hair of her brother’s head without getting burned by her wrath. Never.

“ _Mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”_

Towel disregarded, Eli started to drum on her thighs, alternating with long and hard _slaps_ on her sternum and upper legs, banging her head back and forth. Isaac continued with another rhythm, chanting the melody in his baritone voice.

And then someone rang at the door.

Both stilled, observing each other’s reaction. Eli was ecstatic. Oh, _that_ was interesting. Isaac could almost see her rubbing her hands in glee. Anything worth embarrassing him was interesting.

Isaac muscles went tight with apprehension and his footing shifted, balls of his feet leaving the ground to prepare for a sprint. But Eli grabbed her brother’s shoulder and pushed him aside, running for the door picking her towel on the way. She threw her towel on the ground and slid on it, getting a kick-start as Isaac was shouting her not to do it. Slamming into the wall was not part of the plan, but Isaac had derived her course with his right foot. Gathering her bearings, she hit the intercom button and jovially said “Hi!” before Isaac rammed into her and covered her mouth. The person on the other side of the com didn’t even have the time to respond, Isaac ended the communication.

“ _Time is racing towards us till Damian arrives._ ” He murmured in Eli’s ear, squeezing her against the wall. Grasping her shoulders, he tried once again to unstick her off the wall, but like in the shower, it didn’t really work.

“So, his name’s Damian? Cool. Didn’t know that.” By the sound of Isaac’s heart, this was clearly the boy who made him sometimes wake up balls to the wall. Not that she’ll ever tell him that, he probably already knew that she knew. And that was already a problem in his book.

“ _Abort the mission and let’s go back to our flats.”_ Isaac’s voice was growing annoyed, and his fingers dug deeper in Eli’s skin. Reluctantly, she let the wall go, and found herself being dragged by Isaac towards their rooms. Deciding to be even more of a little shit, Eli went boneless, getting heavier. By the grunt coming from Isaac and his decisively slower course, it was working.

“ _He really doesn’t need me flashing him.”_ No, maybe not. But Isaac was starting to panic, and it was wonderful to hear. And the fact that he felt safe enough to let people in his shell and have emotions displayed was a like a bird’s chant in the desert that was her own sexual/emotional life.

“ _So let’s get clothes? Isi, you’re no fun.”_ She sung, sticking her feet on the floor, making squeaking noises with the bare sole of her feet on the parquet. Laughing, she threw a leg above her head and caught Isaac in a headlock, throwing him on the floor next to the kitchen counter. He fell with a shriek, and Eli didn’t waste time waiting for him to gather his bearings, started to tickle him mercilessly. “ _Bro, you need to learn how to live a little!”_ she laughed as he squirmed to get away, laughing and groaning.

“Fuck off, ‘Li! I’m really gonna be late!” was a plea, but she hadn’t heard her brother laugh that openly in years, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

Then a key in the front door slid in, and the handle _turned_.

Eli stilled, senses raising, and Isaac took his chance to grab her and yank her underneath the counter, shielding them from the stranger coming in. Isaac wasn’t feeling threatened, she realised, when his head straightened and he swiftly began to look around for an escape route. He would’ve hid way better than this if any threat were here. The cupboard being a good example.

“Merounem? You there?” The voice was still high, with a rawness that predicted a crack in a few months, but held a middle eastern accent to it, as if English wasn’t his first language. The same breathing pattern hit her ear as the stranger closed the door behind him. He was the one she had said ‘Hi’ a few minutes ago.

“You gave him a _key_?!” Eli whisper-yelled. She couldn’t believe it. It was fuckin opposite day, or someone had kidnapped her brother and exchanged him with an alien for him to act this relaxed with anyone and give them a _key_ to his home, his safe place. Today was a miracle, and there weren’t any _kumbayas_ to use.

“In my defence, I have problems waking up in the mornings. So what if he’s sometimes my alarm clock?!” He answered back in the same tone, and shut her up with a hand on her mouth when they both heard Damian start walking towards their direction.

“Honeslty, Merounem? Are you still asleep?” the snide came in. Eli could hear Isaac’s eyes roll so high they had a chance to get stuck.

With a sigh big enough to hold every drop of exasperation, Isaac turned to her, and gave the start.

“ ‘Li. Run.”

At this point, it was every human for themselves.

Isaac jumped over the counter top and threw his towel at Damian’s face to distract him, landing in a roll and made a sprint for the hallway. Eli just waited for the right moment, the best.

Said Robin just caught the incoming object, darting looks all around the place to assess threats and enemies. It left him his own two eyes to witness how a butt naked teenager raced towards the hallway door, beet red from the ears to the chest, only to be startled by an also butt naked grown woman sliding on a towel like she was flying the freaking magic carpet in Aladdin between Isaac’s legs – it _had_ to be Isaac-.

Her course finished, Eli –it _had_ to be Eli, because Damian was not ready to see Isaac with anyone else naked, even if _the why_ they were both unclothed was still an unresolved mystery and a phone call away from child abuse services- turned on her towel and jabbed Isaac in the lower stomach, screaming “Chat bite!” in French. She stood up, eyes closed, and waved in Damian’s direction, partially covered –because damn, Grayson was right, she _is_ tiny- by Isaac doubled over in pain. Smiling, she started “Hi Damian! Nice to meet you! You know-“

Damian will never know the rest of that sentence, because Isaac tackled her with all his might, sending them sprawling in the hallway and slammed the door using his foot with an embarrassed “Sorry!”. It left him with Isaac arched, his ass on display, red and completely embarrassed as a last image of this interaction. Frowning, Damian shook his head and dialled Alfred, who was waiting in the car because _No, Master Damian, you can’t drive the car to pick your friend. Driving licenses and police officers are here for a reason._

Bringing the phone to his ear, he sighed. “Pennyworth? We will be a bit delayed. It appears that Merounem is having quite the clothing issue. We’ll be down shortly, ETA ten minutes.” Hanging up, he took a few seconds to gather himself and completely bleach his brain, locking those images up in the dark part of his skull. He then googled the meaning of ‘Chat bite’.

Turns out it was a game where one had to grab the genitals of someone else or kick them in that area, and scream that phrase. The one surprised had then a dare to fulfil. It was a stupid game, Damian decided, absolutely not remembering all the times where his own brothers trapped him with a dare. Especially the one where he had to jump from the Manor’s roof into a pile of snow, only wearing the ‘classical’ Robin pants. The green scaled shorts. And let them record it.

But back at the ‘Chat bite’ matter –translated roughly as ‘Cat’s cock’ in English- Damian wondered why Eli had punched Isaac in the lower stomach and not the genitals, as the rules of the game described. Maybe she had some limits then, even when wandering around completely naked with her brother in the vicinity experiencing the same lack of any shame was maybe pushing things a bit far…. He wouldn’t know, they weren’t exactly exhibitionists outside of the communal showers and dressing/undressing sessions because of vigilante business, or bleeding all over the floor because of said vigilante business.

_Brain bleach the last time I had to witness Father without his undergarments._

A shout made him come back to reality.

“Oh hell _nah_! _You_ are _not_ going out of this house dressed like this, young lady!”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, Squirrel?”

“Those are not clothes! It’s a fashion murder, that’s what it is!”

“It’s just a T-Shirt and pants! What could _possibly_ be wrong with that!?”

“Uhuh. Yeah. A _purple_ T-Shirt, -backwards by the way- with blue and orange _stripes_. And _red velvet_ trousers. Really? Velvet? When do you live? The Middle Age?” Sarcasm was literally dripping. Damian had the feeling, it would be raining soon if Isaac continued to use that tone. “My eyes are bleeding just by looking at you, ‘Li.”

“They’re comfortable!”

“I don’t bloody care! You have a meeting and it will be over my dead body if you walk out that door dressed like a zombie clown. You are going to wear jeans and your favourite sweater, and then I’ll do your make-up, is that understood?!”

“Oh _no._ You are _not_ going to paint my face. I love make-up and I love you, ‘Saac, but I’m going to be late if I let you work your magic –because you take too much time putting freaking concealer- and showing up late with make-up will only reinforce their vision of me being incompetent. I’ll go change.”

Silence for a few seconds, before the screaming returned.

“Oh, and you are not going to wear that ugly sweater!”

“It’s my favourite! You said I could wear my favourite sweater! Take a damn decision, for Fuck’s sake!”

“Don’t care! It’s not even yours! So it can’t be your favourite sweater, since the ownership of aforementioned sweater is _not_ yours.”

“Go sit on a cactus Isaac! It’s comfy and big. And it was obviously _left_ here! So it’s mine now. You’re just jealous!” 

Sputters could be heard. Damian was starting to fear for an apoplexy attack.

“I’m not _jealous_! I’m just wondering if you actually want to look professional. Because wearing a Nightwing sweater is a hell-to-the-no in _my_ book.” Damian’s eyebrow shot to his hairline at that declaration. Guess he’ll have some missed or _given_ sweatshirts investigation to do back at the Manor. And ask what Isaac thought of the Robin ones.

“God dammit Isaac! Let me live dangerously, will ya?!”

“Don’t bring God into your mess, ‘Li! If you want so badly to walk out that door with _that thing_ on you, then you own that decision, and you let me make those ugly ass dark circles disappear.”

“Ugh, _fine_. Anything else, your Highness?”

“You’re wearing flats today.”

“Uhm, obviously? I wasn’t planning on going with high heels to my meeting and plant my face in front of the whole board. Deranged, yes. But not stupid. Now move your ass Isaac, I could actually be on time at the station if you would so graciously get dressed.” 

The whole apartment fell silent, only the shuffle of feet and some things being thrown around disrupting it. After some time, the hallway door was thrown open, and Isaac stepped out, wearing black pants and a white T-Shirt, slipping on his red hoodie. Behind him came Eli, with ripped blue jeans and a black turtleneck shirt peeking under the Nightwing sweater that _obviously_ belonged to Grayson, the hole on the sleeve near the wrist one of his signature. Grayson would gnaw on the fabric whenever he felt anxious.She was swimming in it,but she had tuck it in her jean, only to give it some ressemblance of a form.

Eli was also wearing smoked glasses, and he wondered for a few seconds why, before she turned around, shut the door, and grabbed the white cane laying under the carpet of the living room. Slipping on her shoes, she grabbed her coat and motioned for them to follow. Isaac scrambled to get his shoes on before she closed the door, but they managed okay.

The ride in the elevator was silent at best, awkward at least. Isaac shushed his sister every time she tried to talk to Damian, much to her dismay. He even went to the extent of wrapping his hand on her mouth to prevent her from saying anything. She only giggled at that and licked his palm, slipping her tongue between his finger, causing him to squeal.

Arrived to the front door, Eli hugged Isaac tight. Damian caught a glimpse of worry on Isaac’s face, as he murmured in her buzzed hair “Your level?”. Eli tensed, and hushed back sweetly, “Lights out in approximately two hours. I’m fine.” before letting him go and go on her merry way. Several feet away, she turned and shouted, “Have fun! I’ll call if I stay late in the station. And don’t forget Squirrel, _don’t go out without your little hat._ ” She waved and turned back again, leaving Isaac beet red for the third time today, and Damian waving back at her before remembering she was blind and therefore it was pretty stupid to wave back, right?

If Isaac found it funny, he didn’t say anything. Turning to him, Damian wondered aloud. “Shouldn’t we drop her off? It would be safer.”

Sitting in the car beside him, Damian wasn’t really convinced. “Gotham is dangerous. Especially for people one would consider diminished.”

“If she’s in trouble, I’ll always find her.” Isaac flatly said, the discussion for him finished.

Okay, the confidence Isaac was showing reached sheer stupidity. Leaving his sister, blind, in the streets of Gotham was like spreading blood in waters infested with sharks: it was boned to end badly. Damian slammed the door, and bent forward to reach for Alfred.

“Stop that.” Isaac slipped, his tone like steel, before Damian could even open his mouth.

Ah, being sneaky didn’t work. “Stop what? I’m just-“

“Disregarding my judgement, doing just that, yup, diminishing her because of her disability, also that, well done, you just pissed off two people – one that’s not even there, bravo-. I trust her, Damian, and she doesn’t need your pity.” And with that Isaac turned to Alfred, throwing a hand between the seats to greet him.

* * *

God, she _really_ hoped the rich kid –Damian was it?- would drop the matter. Like Isaac said, she didn’t need a babysitter. Even one that had a car who could purr like that. The motor was pure heaven to listen to, promise of speed and freedom. Oh, the leather seats, with heaters and a massage option. _That_ would pure heaven. She could bet the acoustic would be beautiful, the bass resounding in her bones…Just thinking about it made her want to run to the car and beg the man who smelled like Earl Grey to let her in.

But point being, she didn’t need a babysitter and no amount of perfectly designed vehicles would stop anyone from running late with the traffic that was blocking the streets.

Running late on a _Saturday,_ of all days. Two words didn’t sit right in that sentence. And her head was pounding form that affront alone.

Tapping her cane on the concrete, she made her way to the station, trying to hide the swaying of her steps. No need to show the world – or Isaac for that matter, he was worse than a mother hen- she was feeling like shit by stumbling around like a baby goat. Her head was pounding, muscles trembling just from the walking, a bead of sweat was already running down her spine.

Her energy levels were low because of yesterday, and her enhanced abilities were incapable of recognising the moment where it was more important to store energy than having a damn six pack. She couldn’t stop them, not without restraints, or if she had completely exhausted them. And Red Hood’s energy would only do that much. To restore completely, she’ll have to basically cuddle him for a whole night. Fun times.

_Or do the horizontal tango, hun. Hard._

Oh, she didn’t doubt one second it would be fun, but she always needed the consent of her victims first. And the stunt she pulled yesterday, plus the sleep dep train she was riding like _a motherfucking badass_ to unlock her brain, and think on another level, didn’t really bode well with her body _._ It was bound to leave her completely dry at one point.

_Come to think of it, she’ll have to ask Isaac to redesign the cuffs for her to wear._

And then, they had to put a _freaking_ meeting on a Saturday _morning_?! Had they really no life whatsoever to annoy everyone else with their stupid meetings in the stupid morning? The fun coming from dancing with Isaac was _rapidly_ dissipating with the impending doom of being late to a meeting with a bunch of strangers. Strangers that could help for the gang war, but strangers all the same. And she wasn’t antisocial, but too many people she didn’t know in one room would only end with her sarcastic side coming out. On a _fucking Saturday._ Torturers.

One could argue that the life of a cop was 24/7. But _that was the point!_ She wasn’t even a cop! So leave her alone on her fucking _week-end_. Week. End. The end of the week. Where one is not supposed to _work._ Because _working_ is for during the week. Not the _week-end._ In which language was she supposed to say it to everyone?

But, hey: _With great powers come great responsibilities._ And she had the ability to pick anyone’s brain, so she’ll put it to good use. And if putting it to good use would mean go to that meeting at this ungodly hour of the week-end, then so be it. But it didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. Or that she had to be hypocritically happy about it. She hated it, and she’ll make sure anyone got the message.

She arrived to the station to be welcomed by the morning shift and the smell of coffee. Yup, life of a cop was truly 24/7. Darn it. You had to be a masochist to want to work as a cop. You work on _Saturdays_. And sometimes- well most of the times- on _Sundays_ too. Fucking figures why many of them end up completely nuts before forty. Taking a deep breath, she entered the station and greeted the officer at the main desk.

_Time to run this freak show._

“Heya Lewis! How are you doing on this wonderful, almost sunny, Saturday? Shame we have to work, no?”

A laugh answered her, the high pitched voice of her interlocutor maybe a bit too high for her eardrums. “Duty calls, profiler. Even on Saturday. _Especially on Saturday.”_ Eli could imagine her wiggling her finger in front of her face to gently scold her. “But you’re not here on a courtesy visit, are ya? So, what can I do for ya, honey?”

Damn, busted. Eli smiled and leaned in Lewis’ space. “There’s a meeting with the big man and district officers from all of the stations. But, since it’s a Saturday, I don’t really know where it’s going to take place?” Because yes, Eli didn’t check her emails every day and didn’t have the time yesterday to know the details. Not that she did want to know the detail for such torture.

A few clicks, and Lewis’ voice came back “There! I gotcha. The meeting’s in room 205…Wait…” Lewis took a deep breath, before adding. “Hum…It seems like the meeting got moved to another station. This one’s too near Crime Alley, and they thought that it was too dangerous to have a meeting with the best officers all in one place. Too many would want to take them out.”

Oh fucking wonderful. She was actually on time, _but they changed location._ Today was now a bad day, officially. Karma was biting her in the ass or something. Sighing, she smiled tiredly at Lewis. “And you wouldn’t happen to actually know where it would take place?”

Everybody had their dreams alright. _And she really wanted to know why no one had thought of calling her. Wasn’t she supposed to do a presentation today about their criminals? No? Could she just turn around and go back to bed then?_

“Sorry, no can do. Top-secret. You’ll have to call the big man himself.”

Dang it. Thanking the officer, Eli turned away and pulled out her phone. Going outside, she activated her phone vocally, and called Commissar Noah, praying to whatever God or Goddess that this meeting would be adjourned and everyone could go on their merry way and continue with their lives. He answered at the third ring. Merde, If you would excuse her French.

“Where the hell are ya?!”

Stress situation leads to sarcasm defence mechanism. And her brain answered before she even could filter it out.

“Well, hello to you too, Commissar!”, she began with a shipper tone dripping so much with vitriol and sarcasm you could see holes forming on the ground. “Imagine my surprise, when after waking up and dragging myself out of bed on a _fucking_ Saturday to go to that meeting, after spending the night searching for clues on Hood, -so one could argue I could be sleep-deprived, and therefore need all the rest I can get- I realise that, to my oh wonderful and utter astonishment, _you_ changed the meeting location and didn’t even think about sending me a text or – marvel of technology- _calling me?!_ “

Silence at the other end of the line.

“I sent you an email.” Was the laconic response.

An email… _how_ old is this man to not know how to send a freaking text? But now, she can’t yell at him for not sending her the info. Ok, plan B. Redirect his attention before he can gather his bearings. She really didn’t want to be transferred to Arkham Asylum. “I don’t remember hearing anything about a change of location. Which could be explained by you not crypting your email for me to use the application allowing me to hear it. Could be that. But let’s not dwell upon your errors of the past. Where is the meeting located now?” _And why in the holy fuck should checking my emails be the first thing I do in the morning?!_

Apparently, she had pushed his buttons, because Commissar Noah simply exploded. “Now listen carefully, you smartass! It ain’t my fault you didn’t read the email or actually listened during the meeting yesterday! It ain’t my fault you stayed up late to try to prove Kogane you’re better than him at finding someone! And it certainly ain’t my fault you had to woke up early on a _Saturday_ and you’re pissy about it! I have a boss too, remember?! So now I have a room full with cops twiddling their thumbs because the star of the show isn’t even there! What do I do with them, uhm?!” 

It was now her turn to stay silent. Guess not all cops were Saturdayproof, and would also be pissy about it. Oops.

“So, now that we’re on the same page here, the meeting takes place in Blüdhaven, Burkina Street 25. The door’s red. Hurry up, we’re all waiting for you.”

And with that he hung up.

She clutched her phone in her hand, resisting the urge to throw it. Fucking cops with their fucking Saturday meetings and her fucking fault for missing the info. Stress and anxiety gnawed at her ankles, sending her in a loop. Everyone was waiting for her, _she_ was making everyone late. Because she didn’t read the fucking email. Fucking hell, what were all the people thinking? They might have also heard Noah scream at her, reprimanding her like she was a freaking teenager. They would think she was unruly and completely irresponsible, and wouldn’t trust her with anything! They-they would diminish her and she would go back to square one, and…it would be fiasco in Boston all over again!

Slowly, she let herself slide down, resting her buttocks on her heels and burying her face in her arms, clutching her growing hair with both hands. The sting on her scalp helped remember where she was, but the pain had stopped being a focus since long ago. She was so fucked now. In and out, in and out, she breathed through her fear and regained control of her emotions. _Emotions that got someone killed last night, you fucking unprofessional_. She had tried to hide the flinch at the use of ‘take them out’, the unbreathing and too still body of that little girl wrapped in plastic popping in her mind. _Mary Paningol, and she’s in a body bag because of you._ She had fucked up royally, last night and today. And by Murphy’s law, it was far from over. Call it Merounem luck.

Screaming was a wonderful option, but they were people around her. Taking big gulps of air, she started to write down her next course of action in braille in her brain.

Starting to point one, she realised something very important. _Guess everybody makes mistake, after all._ Pulling out her phone, she dialled Commissar Noah’s phone.

He answered the first time. “What now?”

She pulled out her best imitation of a cherry voice, even when she was feeling like crying and hiding. What was the saying again? _Fake it till you make it? Fake it till you become it? (Thanks Ted Talk)_

“Helli Hello Commissar. Funny hearing from you again so soon! Tell me, what is my most recognisable feature?”

“I repeat, Merounem. _What.”_

“And I repeat as well, Commissar. What is my most recognisable trait? Tell me, uhm, my awesome personality?”

Silence once again on the other side of the line. She could hear gears turning in his head.

“You’re blind.” Came as a direct answer. “And sarcastic.”

“Bingo! We have a winner! And now, what information did you gave me about the meeting?”

“I said it was Burkina Street 25, red…” _Aha, you’re getting there._ Noah’s voice was laced with incomprehension.

“Yes, yes you did. And tell me, how am I supposed to go there when we both know that Google maps and localisation doesn’t really work in Gotham? And that all the details you gave me work for people who see the light of the sun?” Okay, now she was pushing it a little bit. She knew approximatively the way, but it was from the rooftops and someone blind with very few Internet coverages in that city shouldn’t be able to go without help this far. Not to mention the buses where an absolute nightmare to find.

“Shit.”

 _Thank God, you finally realised._ “Well Commissar, I would pref-“, the Commissar interrupted her before she could finish her sentence.

“I hear ya , Merounem, no need for you sarcastic comment. I’ll send you someone to pick you up.”

As he was hanging up, she murmured _thank you_ , actually thanking him and apologising to him for her behaviour. Guess now she’ll have to wait for her knight in shining armour to pick her up. Knight in shining armour she didn’t even know, by the way. She could always call Noah again to get information, but now she just wanted some time alone to sort things out. Mainly the mess in her head. Straightening, Eli wiped her hands on her jeans, chasing the feeling of defeat and uselessness away. She had found a solution about the location, now she just had to proceed carefully. Step by step.

To begin, her hearing was getting worse, the sounds jumbling together to make an incoherent cacophony. Her headache was also worsening, pounding rhythmically against her skull, like her grey matter wanted to escape. Her muscles were trembling, and the pain in her spine was back, all the energy which could have been used to restore completely her back now reverted to use in her enhanced senses. Stupid senses who didn’t know where was the limit between keeping her alive and killing her slowly because they couldn’t recharge enough for what they were using. Kinda how humans were treating the Earth…now that was maybe a stretch in analogy?

Feeling very tired and assaulted by the noise, Eli slumped back to the wall and stayed there, clutching her head in her hands, her cane attached on her biceps. She didn’t know where her back pack was, but there was nothing remotely important in there. All the info she had gathered were on a USB stick safe in her front pocket. She focused on her breathing, trying to tune out the noise. She couldn’t even hear herself _think._ She didn’t know how long she spent slumped against the wall like it was her best friend, coiling on herself once again, trying to find a focal point, to concentrate on this in order to keep the panic at bay for just _ten more minutes fuck please_ , pulling on the short string of hair to give herself some grounding through the pain. But the baby crying, the jiggling of the man’s keys, that honk, that _fucking pigeon cooing like getting laid was the only thing worth living_ were distracting her too much and she couldn’t-

“Miss Eli Merounem?”

That got her out of the spiral. The voice was familiar, but the high and accent were completely wrong. It had the pitch of a spandex clad vigilante she had sat on several times (in real life _and_ in dreams) but the accent was not one from Gotham. Whereas Nightwing spoke like a kid born and raised in this cut-throat hellhole, this person spoke with soft Romani remnants in his inflexion, coming on her left.

“Whu?” _Smooth Eli. Very smooth, bravo._ She was out of the spiral for now, but it didn’t mean all her neurons were out of the _holy shit we’re all completely fucked_ and allowed her to think straight. Hehe, _straight_. _Wooooow, sleep dep much._

The incongruous voice repeated again, this time louder and the words articulated a tad too much. “Miss E-li Me-rou-nem?” Eli resisted clicking her tongue to get his measurements, not knowing if he would interpret the gesture as something picky or if her echolocation would even work. He spoke like he was surprised to see her, like he didn’t see that coming. Damn it, she couldn’t hear his heartbeat to know _why._

“I ain’t deaf you know, the light’s just out permanently. But yeah, in the flesh.” She replied to him, her nose picking up the scent of detergent used to clean firearms and underneath the sour scent of sweat mixed with a good Cologne. He maybe had run here. Or he was just a heavy sweater. The scent wasn’t unpleasant, but it confirmed she couldn’t scent the ‘real’ scent anybody had and that he was most likely a cop. The brand of detergent used was the most common one within the police force. “And, who’re you?”

“Officer Dick Grayson. I’m here to pick you up.” _Dick Grayson. Search for data later. Any relations with a vigilante who squeaks when thrown to the ground specifically._ Eli straightened up, and threw her hand towards the voice.

She caught him square in the nose.

She startled at the contact, withdrawing her hand at the feeling of the cold appendice as Officer Grayson started laughing. Apparently he had crouched down in front of her, and had not counted on the fact that she would try to make contact. _I think he has a running nose. Eurk, I just got my hand full of snot and microbes._ Wiping her hand on her shirt- resisting the urge to ask for disinfectants or wipe it on _his_ shirt, it’s _his_ snot- she found grounding with the wall behind her. This day was getting better and better. First the meeting on a Saturday, in another place, and now hitting the only person who was there to help her?

Wonderful.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured, clutching her hand against her torso. No need to hit him anywhere else inadvertently.

“No, I should be the one apologising. I didn’t warn you I was that near.” Officer Grayson apologised, tapping his foot near her left leg to give her an idea of his location. The rhythmical taps stood out of the sonar cacophony, and his voice became clearer too. She reached out _slowly_ , letting him know she wanted him to show her the way.

His hand was used. That first observation struck her. Callouses and splinters scared his fingers and palm. The fingers were slightly curved as he held her hand in his, as if he had forgot how to flatten and relax completely his palm. This normally only happened to people of a certain age, and he didn’t strike her as a seventy-five years old man. _Bring hand cream next time, if you’re going to work with him._ Wrapping her fingers around his, she reached down to grab her backpack and detached herself from the wall. Officer Grayson pulled on her hand and she was thankful when he explained to her where they were going as he looped her fingers on his arm. Knowing they were entering a parking lot prepared her at least a little bit to the screams of tires and echoes bouncing around, smashing against her skull.

But the moment someone bumped into her shoulder, sending her senses in a frenzy and the dam keeping the panic attack broke _because she didn’t hear them coming!_ she couldn’t take it anymore. Letting Grayson’s hand go, she forced him to stop and crouched down, covering her ears with her hands. _Useless, the noise isn’t going to stop._ Grayson followed the movement and crouched near her.

“What’s the problem?” His voice was soft, as if trying to soothe a distressed person. Which in that case made her the distressed person in need of help. That didn’t sit well with her, but she couldn’t just stand up and tell him to fuck off. Not with the noise screaming in her head. She couldn’t think, the clock was ticking in her head and her body was screaming at her. She had to get to the precinct before all the lights went out.

_So suck it up, buttercup, you have a job to do._

But the noise. The noise was awful and she couldn’t hear anything except-

Eli’s head shot up, almost ramming into Grayson’s, as the realisation hit her. She could’ve cried in relief if it wasn’t for the wonderful audience who almost got telescoped.

“Don’t stop talking.” Wow, her voice sounded really like she was about to collapse. So much for trying to smooth it out.

Grayson’s voice filed with incomprehension. “What?”

“Don’t stop talking, it helps with the noise.”

Thankfully, it turned out that Officer Dick Grayson was quite the talker, and could jump from one idea to the other. It really, _really_ reminded her of the vigilante she had stalked for several days, always with a quick repartee, annoying muggers and thugs with his puns. Grayson never asked why, just accepted that fact and got on with his life around this new addition. The walk to the car got filled with stories about how his adoptive father couldn’t cook to save his life –the sandwich in the microwave seemed to have traumatized him- and that he seemed to have quite the big family. Four little brothers and sisters, a scary grandfather, and a bunch of misfits that he considered family. She counted the feeling of his warm arm against her ribcage as a good distraction.

( _and damn if that wasn’t hard muscles just under her fingers. She wanted to sink her teeth in that as soon as she got the permission.)_

“Our ride has arrived, my lady.” Grayson playfully nudged her to his car, who smelled like used leather and greasing oil.

Eli let her fingers wander on the chassis, trying to feel the bumps of the paint, the microscopic scrapes. She grabbed the handle and opened the door, wincing at the squeak of the joint. The car’s indoor smelled like peppermint and its driver, making Eli feel like she had entered someone else’s territory. Which was kind of what was happening. Despite the smell of old and used, the motor ran smoothly as Grayson put the contact and drove them out of the parking.

The ride was full of pause because of the traffic, but Grayson’s voice stayed constant, reminding her where she was, who she was during the day. His chatter pushed the panic at bay, letting her gather her bearings, and get control of the beast only waiting to pull out a rodeo and chase down the two vigilantes it had imprinted on. She still, to this day, couldn’t believe she had decided to flirt with the one she sat on instead of ripping his throat out with her teeth.

Deciding she had asked him to talk mostly to himself for too long, Eli pulled herself out of her misery and forced a bit of small talk out of her lips. “So, Officer Grayson, how come you were the ‘chosen one’ to pick my sorry ass up?”

His snort was disbelieving. “You’re not a sorry ass, Miss Merounem. And to answer your question, I volunteered.”

“Please, just call me Eli. I’m not that old.”

“Oh, I can see _that_. And If I call you Eli, you call me Dick.”

 _Yeah, that’s not happening, and did he just…Nevermind._ “I’m rather fond of the swear word ‘dick!’, so to call you that would only make me feel like I’m insulting you all day long. I think that until I find something else to call you, I’ll stick with ‘Officer Grayson’ or ‘Grayson’.”

Grayson laughed. He _laughed_ at her struggles about his name, only adding “My birth name’s ‘Richard’ if you want to call me that.”

 _Hun, that’s not happening either._ “You don’t sound like a Richard to me. Don’t worry, I’ll come up with something.” She laughed a bit to soften the atmosphere. “I named my little brother after all, and he’s turning out mostly okay.”

The car’s driving rhythm stopped, and started alternating between backwards and forwards rapidly. The beeping of the car coming along, she was now fairly sure he was parking the car. He maybe had his arm around her head restraint, but she couldn’t sense him that well, all information coming in a jumble of _here’s something, and there too. Oh, and you didn’t know but many things are around you and I can’t determine what it is_. His voice rang in the cabin as he set the handbrake. “I want to hear that story, but sadly, we’re here.” And before she could exit the car, he gripped her arm to get her attention. “But, I’ve got an idea. Depends on you if you like it or not. Wanna tell me that story around a cup of coffee, if that gives any motivation to get through this meeting and if you enjoy my company? I know a place that makes a mean mocha, and I know I can be annoying as hell but at least, I’m never boring.” 

Eli froze. Now her panic was completely gone, replaced with a deep sense of incomprehension. This guy had seen her lose all sense of reality, almost have a panic attack, hit him in the nose and now he wanted _to talk to her around a cup of coffee_? Was he completely nuts? And what was that? Pity or interest for the freak show she was?

_Forty-five, two, five, two, twenty-five, ten, thirty. One hundred and nineteen. One minute left._

“Eli?”

“Whu?” _Smooth. You never learn, do you?!_ “ Well, uhm, yeah sure, if I don’t get beaten to death by Noah.” _And if I don’t completely chicken out by that time. I have to call Isaac._ “Actually, I think that today will be good, ‘cause I still have some work to do, and the promise of coffee _is_ a motivator. And not that shit they serve in the coffee machines.” _Yeah, coffee. Before you pass the fuck out in front of him. How many days again?_

“Great! So it’s a _date_! How about we go eat together?” How someone could sound so chipper about that, she would never know. She nodded her assessment, and just like that, the topic changed. It got stored on a shelf to open later, and Eli got back to the business at hand. Exiting the vehicle, she looped her arm around Grayson’s and let him guide her.

_Five._

“You know how many people are in the room?” Was her first question.

“Including you? Normally twenty-three.” His voice was serious and focused: he had picked up her change in attitude. The rhythm of their steps slowed, her cane tapping along.

“Technologies?”

“There’s a computer and an interactive whiteboard. We all have our work phones with us.”

They exited the parking and climbed the steps to the station. She could feel the sun briefly caressing her skin before they made their way into the den of the lion.

_Four._

“Do you have all your files with you?” Oh, okay. Now it was her turn to be questioned.

“Paper files in my backpack, USB stick in my jeans. Noah had copies for you prepared, since mine are written in braille.”

“How many coffees did you have this morning?”

“None. I was in a rush.” _I didn’t eat, but not gonna tell you that._

_Three._

“How good do you know your presentation?”

“Better than humans know the map of the oceans.” She didn’t leave him room to think of a repartee. “How many in there are pissed we have a meeting on a Saturday?”

“…I would say …all of them?”

_Two._

They came to a stop in front of a door, and before Grayson knocked on it to announce their arrival, she turned her head to him and playfully said, “Last question: How many of them have their zipper open?”

_One._

The second he took to check his own gave her enough time to take a deep breath and school her features. Time to shine. Releasing his arm, she opened the door herself.

 _Zero. Light’s out._ The Silence was deafening now that it was in her head. 

* * *

That was it. He was going to kill him and bury the body.

They had finished talking about Economics –two hours of that shit. Isaac was feeling a headache coming-, well more of Damian explaining the mystic ways of the professor to an all ears Isaac. Isaac was really good at hiding that he was an electric battery at school. But in the Manor, he had a really difficult time staying in one place. At first Damian had put it on the grandiose atmosphere of the mansion, but Isaac couldn’t stop touching everything and anything that came too close to his greedy paws. It had started with the portraits in the hallway and now Isaac was just searching for _anything_ interesting in Damian’s room. He already had discovered the stash in his closet with the fake world domination plans, a rainbow flag (this one got a laugh out of Isaac. _Didn’t think you would take the ‘coming out of the closet’ literally, Wayne._ ) and the adoption papers for his cat Alfred.

He was now investigating the underside of Damian’s bed, humming the intro of _Jaws_ while lifting the mattress and rumpling the covers. The fifth Robin was really trying not to snap or ogle Isaac’s back as he strained his muscles. Either one was driving him crazy.

“Are you done, Merounem?! If you remember, we actually have a presentation to discuss and create. This is why you are here in the first place. If you want to waste time, you can always go back to your place and continue to be an imbecile there. I have greater things to do.” And with that he swivelled back to his computer where he had the Power Point open. Drama queen, much.

Hands grabbed his chair and shook it, with him in it. “Damian, Dami, my buddy, my man, you don’t get it.” Isaac made the chair spin back to him, and his arm stopped the movement to get Damian in front of him. He released the chair the second he made contact with those green eyes assessing him dangerously _because, yeah, vigilante right there._ But that didn’t deter his enthusiasm. Joining his fingers like an excited Italian Mama, he smiled, “Dude, you’re a detective, right? I mean, you’re Robin, so it’s kinda obvious that you’re trained for that –not that you shouldn’t be, I really hope it saves your life more than it gets you into trouble- Even though, if you’re a detective, you’re bound to search for clues and put your nose into things you shouldn’t be snooping around for. God I hope you didn’t end up in the bay, man that must suck ass as hell. Going with a block of cement as slippers and a kiss good night from the fishes is creepy. Not the fish part, obviously, I heard King Shark is kinda cool when he has a coffee in the morning…but yeah…Where was I?”

The eyebrow Damian raised got him back on track.

“Ah, yeah. You invaded my privacy, discovered all my secrets yada yada, so wanna get back at you for that. And what better than your room to hide your secrets?”

And with that, he turned to back to destroying the bedding. “And do you want to talk about the Amerindian music too or we stick to the utter decimation the Europeans started and how it’s still hasn’t stopped today?” as he pushed the whole frame a few centimetres to the right. Flattening himself on the floor, Isaac taped several times the carpeting until he felt a piece detach from the ensemble. Watching him ripping it from the floor, Damian pondered his answer.

“I didn’t really discover anything, Merounem. You’re a meta, but it doesn’t mean you are a menace except to yourself if you keep breathing the dust under my bed.”

**BONK.**

“Ah, bloody- I think I’ll need stiches. Don’t surprise a guy like that, would you? The blood on the knife gave me away? Gotta say, Dami, you’re playing dirty. But being Robin, or discovering I’m meta –I know you want to talk about this, but hold it for another time- isn’t the kind of secret I’m looking for.” He answered as he pulled the porn magazines out of their hiding. Frowning, he threw them over his shoulder, and dived right back in.

That got Robin’s attention. Getting up, he marched to his bed and sat on it. His gaze descended along Isaac’s spine, noting the wrinkles in his shirt, how it rumpled near his ribs as he fished for anything stupid he had hidden under that bed. He ended watching how those same cheeks he had seen naked wiggle as their owner clenched them in rhythm to a silent tune. The image he had sealed in the dirty part of his mind popped back to the forefront and he felt the distinct desire to smack Isaac upside the head.

“Will you please stop that? What do you want to know?!”

Isaac’s ass stilled, and his head popped out of the bedframe. His smile was crooked and his eyes were glinting with a lot of _aha, got you._ “Damian Wayne gets embarrassed when one twerks in front of him. Noted.”

“I am _not_ embarrassed.” Deny it till your death, if you must. One of the Batrule Damian was now very adamant in following. The fifth Robin clearly saw the sextoy appear in Isaac’s hand only to be thrown on the pile of porn, and Isaac eyed him mischievously.

A finger wiggled in front of his nose, and Isaac’s smile was still there, if not even bigger. “Your colour is spreading on the sole of your feet, and on your cheeks. You’re embarrassed, don’t even try to deny it, Dami.”

“Whatever. What’s even with the nickname?” _Deflect like a motherfucker,_ _oh yeah._ Drake was the master of this sport, but it didn’t mean that Damian hadn’t picked up a few things along the way. 

“I wanted to see if you would kill me if I called you that. Clearly not, so I shall continue. And Dami is a cute nickname, I could’ve called something much worse, like…. Damiboo?” The hand bopped his nose.

Damian rolled his eyes so high it was a wonder they stayed in their sockets. Isaac snickered, not done.

“Lil’ sweet potato pie?”

“Where the hell did you hear such atrocities?” He swatted Isaac’s hand away, as the peon laughed, his upper body laid on the covers, muffling his giggles in the sheets. “What does your sister call you, again? ‘Squirrel’? Clearly, I see where the love for stupid nicknames comes from.”

“Hey, don’t insult my nickname like that, I’m hurt.” Damian levelled his eyes back to Isaac’s face. “Look, I’m bleeding to death because of your harsh words.”

Nine on the eyeroll scale. Isaac silently high-fived himself. 

Standing up, Damian retrieved his laptop and sat in the middle of the room, motioning Isaac to come over. The taller boy crawled to the spot, curious, and plopped his ass next to Damian, eyes drawn to the computer screen. A PowerPoint was open, miserable and lonely with its only slide created. Damian was fairly certain he could’ve done everything by himself, but Brown had said that working as a team at school was the same as when they fought together: you should discuss your decisions, take the other person in consideration and when it came to construct something, do it together. Damian didn’t really see the purpose, he was faster alone, but all the times someone saved his beacon because they were a _team_ made this whole _observe Merounem destroy your room and pray that one day you will finish the assigned work_ worth a shot.

“So you agree for the music, and the actuality of the situation. Perfect.” Damian continued as he pulled up a whole presentation on both subject because _Damian ‘prepared for anything’ Wayne –Al Ghul is my full name._ Isaac snorted, rolling his eyes, and went to retrieve his own laptop. Sitting back down, he pulled out his own information on both subject, and opened a third, about the effort made to preserve the cultural legacy and the integration in the frame of reality. Smiling, he turned around to see Damian eye him carefully.

“Guess we had the same idea. So…- Hold on.” Isaac turned back to his backpack to fish out his phone ringing. _Loser like me_ rang in the room, and Damian pointedly stopped himself to think about any of it. Looking toward the unconvinced assassin, Isaac smiled nervously. “My sister. Sorry, I gotta take this.” He stood up and left the room, leaving a crack in the door behind him.

Damian raised an eyebrow. Opened doors were an invitation in his family, should it be for ‘cosplay business’ or gossip –he got that from Grayson and Brown, unsurprisingly-, so you didn’t _leave doors casually opened_ for anyone to eavesdrop. Well, his loss. The fifth Robin silently creeped nearer, and peaked between the cracked opening. Isaac was pacing in the hallway, a fond smile plastered on his face. “How went the meeting? What do you mean ‘not finished’? Oh, middle break, okay…So? Many dickbags in there? You owned the stage like the motherfucker I know you are?”

The volume of Eli’s voice raised, and Isaac frowned. “Wowowow, stop. Rewind. Coffee? You sure you don’t wanna extend that to an eating date? ‘Cause, you know…When was the last time you ate?”

The silence at the other end of the line answered that question. Isaac sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “ ‘Li, we talked about this.” A protest. “Oi! No, I’m not copying ‘your big sibling voice’, chill out… I- What?” Isaac’s eyebrows shot up, and his whole expression changed. He became guarded, shoulders hunched up, right hand pulling on his hoodie. “How do you know that? I never told you my drawings were destroyed…” He sputtered, only to pass his hand on his face as he heard cackling on the other end of the line. Apparently he got played to admit what had happened. Eli’s voice became serious once more and Isaac sighed. “Fuck you, ‘Li. You know damn why I didn’t want to tell you, and yes it’s related to Boston. And I can damn swear if I want to, don’t be a prude when you swear like a sailor! Oh, don’t think I forgot the ‘miscarriage of a cocknose, fucked on both sides before being shat on’ when you busted your toe against the table.”

Damian didn’t need to hear Eli’s response to know Isaac was being a smartass. Eli continued to speak, and judging by Isaac’s expression, it was another subject.

A pause made its way in Eli’s speech and Isaac’s eyes grew impossibly wide. Then, he became beet red, and let himself slide to the floor. “Oh my God, Eli. Stop. Please, stop. Maybe it works that way with you, but you are _fourteen_ years older than me. I think I can manage with a hug or an…-” A pause, enough for Damian to hear Eli suggest something while snickering. “WHAT?! NO! How in the Hell did you catch that? I hid it well, dammit! And for the record, I really didn’t need that kind of information. Brain bleach is now my favourite. Your levels are completely different than mine, and it just started changing for me last year. No, I don’t need you to… We have biology class for that! You already embarrassed me enough last month with your ‘big sister talk’ bullshit.”

“Besides, I’m still good.” A sigh. “But honestly, ‘Li, it really sucks. That whole thing makes me uneasy, like I don’t have a choice in the matter. And I’m scared it’ll just blow up in my face. It wasn’t easy before, but now it’s like we have to juggle blindfolded with knives, dancing on a gym ball and sharks under us. …Yes, I know you can do that, but _I can’t_ , alright, it was a _metaphor._ Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful or whatever, go back to your date. I want a picture afterwards. You have a name?” Damian saw Isaac’s face scrunch up in disbelief at Eli’s answer. “Yeah, you’re right, he needs a new one. Oh, before you go…You coming home late? No, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself, I..- Fine _, big sis_ , I’ll ask them if that’s alright, but I really feel like intruding.” An ironic chuckle. “Naaah, I’m not to that kind of critic level yet, ‘s fine, they’re not in danger. I won’t transform in _you_ if I don’t get what I need, seriously.” A fond smile crept on his face as Eli said something. “Yeah, ok, I’ll try to work my magic on your tech, but maybe not tonight. I’ll text you later on. Happy hunting, ‘Li.”

Hanging up, Isaac was about to turn around and catch him eavesdropping when Pennyworth made its way up the stairs and called them for lunch.

“Mr. Merounem, lunch is served. If you would be so kind and retrieve Master Damian, I will join you in the kitchen.”

“Sure thing, uhm, Mr. Pennyworth.” Pocketing his phone, Isaac made his way towards the door to Damian’s room. Said owner of the bedroom jumped to his laptop and slid like a boss behind it, not a string of hair falling askew. Innocence personified. Isaac pushed the door open with a look of slight discomfort tainting his traits.

“Mr. Pennyworth said that lunch is ready.” He said, all the while putting his phone back into his backpack and observing Damian like a hawk. Isaac was nervous, and some ticks he had were resurfacing.

“So I’ve heard.” The fifth Robin answered, typing all the details he had gathered by the conversation on a separate hard drive. Making a show to slam the keypads to write some final words when he wasn’t even finished to sort out the one sided conversation he had eavesdropped. Levelling his eyes to Isaac, he discovered the taller boy standing awkwardly right to the door. He looked like he had swallowed something sour and was fidgeting with the hem his hoodie. Damian resisted the urge to sigh. This was getting ridiculous. One moment Isaac was perfectly fine with destroying the peace that was his room and the other he was nervous to even speak.

“What.” Damian sighed, locking eyes with Isaac before this one adverted his eyes to the right.

“…Will your father be there for lunch?” was whispered between the silence of the room.

Damian didn’t understand why _that_ would make Isaac nervous. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. He then stood up, and strode forward to the door Isaac was blocking with his body. Damian eyed him clinically, trying to see the connection between Isaac’s nervousness and his Father, knowing that Isaac had more than two braincells and could put two and two together.

“Why does that make you nervous?” he murmured, trying to look at Isaac in the eyes. By refusing eye contact, Isaac was shying away from some form of intimidation and observation. Damian couldn’t assess perfectly if Isaac was lying or not and he couldn’t intimidate him with the _I will ensure you are unable to reproduce without needing medical help_ look. But there were other ways, like physical closeness and a low voice promising danger. Not that his was really low, but he knew how to convey that danger was around the corner if he wasn’t satisfied.

Taking another step toward Isaac, he witnessed how the pupils of the taller boy dilated and he took a steadying breath. “Tell me.”, he whispered like a demand, instead of an order, surprising himself at how soft his voice had come out. He was now so close that he could feel Isaac’s breath on his face –damn him being _so freakishly tall_ -. “Why would Father make you nervous of all people in Gotham?”, he asked again, watching Isaac squirm and grip his hoodie harder all the while thinking _he is kind of adorable when red in the face…_

“….Would he mind if I stayed the night here?” was murmured embarrassingly. “‘Li’s not coming back until the middle of the night if she doesn’t pass out on her date, and she asked me if it would possible for me to stay here. Because, and I quote, ‘You complain too much that I leave you alone. Now that you have someone to be alone with, take your chance.’ That sounded conspicuous, I’m sorry, it’s maybe what she meant, I dunno, but bottom line is, if I don’t stay the night here, I’ll be alone in the apartment, and if she will probably skin me alive ‘cause I’ll make a mess out of boredom, like always, but now she’s a bit jumpy and I don’t wanna deal with that. But you have some traffic light theme costum to worry about, I’m sorry, that was stupid, I didn’t even think about that, and your father is the head of a company, he’s got so much more to worry about, that was dumb, and I’m rambling, I dunno why. Maybe it’s because your standing _very near_ me. I can see your eyelashes, wow, they’re so long…”

Isaac was now a mumbling mess, and Damian stood dumbfounded, not having expected that turn of event. He was waiting for the _you’re Dad’s Batman, right?_ kind of insecurity, not that low level questions about a sleepover. The knife he had griped in case felt pretty useless now that Isaac was watching him, red like a tomato.

“You’re worried about a _sleepover_?” Just to be sure. Isaac’s eyes reduced to fine lines.

“Are you _judging_ me?”

Probably, yes. No, absolutely.

A cough made them come back to reality and Damian realised he was still standing very near Isaac, so near in fact, that he could smell his breath. Turning around while concealing the knife he had in his left palm, he confronted Pennyworth, who looked professional as always, if not for the glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Lunch is ready, if you two would come downstairs.”

“We’re coming.” He thought over for the span of a second before looking at the butler in the eyes. “Tell me, Pennyworth, will Father be there for lunch?”

“I’m afraid not, Master Damian. May I ask why?” If the two noticed Isaac sighing in relief, none of them pointed it out.

“Nothing to worry about. I will text him that we have a guest for the night, then.”

Isaac shot worried eyes to Damian, watching as the fifth Robin shrug his shoulders and motioned for him to come along for lunch. Excitement mixed with anxiety coursed through his veins at the thought of sleeping at someone else’s house for the first time in his life.

 _I really need a hug._ Not that he would tell Eli that she was right about him reaching his limits.

* * *

Dick –Nickname still in progress, her brain was too tired to come up with one- Grayson was a mystery. But she couldn’t analyse him like she wanted to. No hearing his heartbeat, no analysing his walking, the pitch of his speech. Nothing, she was going in completely blind and _that_ didn’t sit well with her. Talk about paranoia.

And now that he had seen her at her worst, she would have to keep up some of the appearance because she maybe on _first one to die if Zombie apocalypse starts_ mode, but it didn’t mean she didn’t pick up that he had more than three braincells and could see that she wasn’t _that_ disabled. Except for now, which maybe saved her ass, now that she thought about it. Nothing worse than to be outed by your new co-worker when you don’t have _any_ kind of blackmail on them. And she would have a big file with ribbons, kumbayas and _Nightwing_ cutely written on it if she only had the hearing to know if the heartbeats matched or not. Or even the scents, she had determined that he used the same wash product that the one used for the Nightwing sweatshirt _conveniently_ left on her floor that night, but to know if it was the same person, it was another problem altogether. 

Just something to know on which foot to dance.

She heard a tap on her right, and her personal space got flooded by something- that much she gathered- before a voice rang near her. Putting her paranoiac thoughts in the backburner, she concentrated on the present.

“There you go. A hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows, and _pumpkin syrup_.” The disgust was clear in his voice as he put down the beverage in front of her.

“What? You don’t like my choices?” She punctuated with a loud slurp, feeling sugar run on her tongue, clearing the fog in her brain a little bit.

“Offended, clearly. You don’t mix marshmallows and pumpkin syrup, it’s a crime against humanity.”

“Really? You’re offended by that?” Hot chocolate and pumpkin didn’t mix together _at all_. Her tastes buds were screaming at her, but _sugar._ So much sugar in one go. Her stomach growled loudly, and she wrapped her free arm around her waist.

A laugh came from the man sitting in front of her, before his nails tapped against the table. “You wanna eat?” was pretty much just for being polite. And if he had already ordered two pizzas, one salami and one veggie because he didn’t know her preferences, then she’ll have to discover it by herself when they would arrive.

She laughed, decided to play it off. “Naaaah, I’m good. Coffee’s fine.” Punctuated by another loud growl, her own body betraying her.

A huff, before Grayson sighed. “Okay, let me just ask you some questions?”

Uhm, what if she said no? Would that be considered rude? Because she had an inkling in where this conversation was going, and _that_ didn’t look good for her. But hey, _Officer Grayson, best of the Bluhaven department._ That title wasn’t for nothing.

“Even if I say no, you’re going to do your job and find those answers, detective. So shoot.” Waving her hand in a _come on_ motion, she braced herself.

“Alright. When was the last time you ate?”

Argh, already a difficult question. Scrunching her eyebrows, she recounted the times she felt food on her tongue. “Uhm….. Last night.” The Bulgogi had been heaven in her mouth before patrol.

“Okay.” No emotions through his voice. “Last time you slept.”

Confidently, she levelled her face to the origin of his voice and supplied, “Last night.” 

“How many hours.” Got specified, his smile audible in his tone. Sheepishly, she scratched her nose and mumbled. “Thirty minutes?”

“And the last time you had a six hours sleep?”

“Can you stop the interrogation?” was an answer in itself. She couldn’t remember. “I’m here to enjoy a coffee in good company, not be judged for my work methods.” 

A soft hum answered her, before she heard his chair crack. “You could’ve lied, you know.”

Her smile was nothing civilised, she knew, but that didn’t stop her. By launching this conversation, he had picked the interest of both of her, and the spider was playing, delighted. “What makes you think I wasn’t lying?”

“I honestly don’t know if you were lying or not, but I do know that people are way more honest about little problems when they discuss with a stranger then with a friend. And I’m a stranger. For now.”

Fair enough. Straightening up, Eli searched for the edge of the table and leaned in, mirroring what she thought would be Grayson’s nonverbal language. Her smile grew larger, and even if she was impaired for now, the hunt was _so on_.

“My turn.” She said, crossing her arms on the table. The puff of breath that hit her face told her Grayson was way closer than she would’ve thought and really interested in the conversation. “Last time you had sex?”

Grayson coughed, probably choking on his drink, and she patted herself on the back for that one. “Wow, you’re really going in for the kill, aren’t you?” A pause. “Uhm… Three weeks ago.”

Even if she couldn’t confirm it, she filed it under the _weird but hella hot ass moment between Red Hood and Nightwing…. And me on top of that._ “Last time you talked to your father/mentor/tutor/whatever you consider your parental figure if they’re not dead openly?”

The silence was way longer now, but he was taking her seriously and she was really thankful for that matter. “Three days ago, about my little brother socialisation’s problem in school. He didn’t really get that getting stares was something teenagers worried about.” _Big family with great age gap, father still in the picture._ Time to know if it had always been that way, she was closing in.

“Okay…Ever given your little siblings the ‘Talk’? Mine was mortified when I was finished.” She made sure to put those quotation marks and give some information about herself, to lead him away for the importance of the question.

A laugh answered her, followed by an ironic snort. “Oh yeah, man. I’ll never forget the look of utter betrayal and embarrassment my littlest little brother gave me when I explained to him that having a boner when you thought about something or someone exciting was _completely_ normal. He looked at me like he didn’t know me anymore.” _Father not the most implicated man in his family life, Grayson took over the role. Second father figure, good with kids, reliable. Soft spot for little ones, like you have._

“Okay.” She smiled, leaning away from the table.

“That’s all?” Grayson was smiling, nails tapping against the table top.

“Yeah” She shrugged. “I got what I wanted, and you asked only three questions. It was only fair I ask the same amount.”

“And what did you get on me?” Eli now really wished she could hear his voice with tenfold more precision, because she couldn’t gauge if he was angry or not. But Merounem wasn’t a name that really cared about someone’s feelings except for family.

“Like a magician never disclose their tricks, I’m not going to tell how I do my job. Secrets have a cost, they are not for free.” She smiled. She heard him puff, and Eli started to fear he would close off in to avoid divulging information. Weighing the pros and cons for a split second, she took a decision she really hoped she wouldn’t have to regret later.

“But I’ll make you a promise if it makes you feel more at ease. I will never actively try to pick your brain, Officer Dick Grayson. You’re not a case.”

_Not yet._

Grayson leaned in again, and she could hear he was interested in his voice. “Even if I wasn’t what I looked like?” 

The animal part of her brain was _so_ turned on now, it was a fact. She didn’t understand why she wouldn’t drag Grayson to an alleyway and have her way with him.

She snorted, deciding to throw the whole _let them underestimate me until the last minute_ out the window. That was important and playing half-assed games wasn’t in her book. “Does it seem like a give a shit about what you look like?” Before he could correct himself, because _yes she knows that it was a metaphor_ , she continued, “If you’re on the good side -well on the morally just side of the grey- that compose our whole fucked up world, then I’ll stand to my promise. _But…_ ” She leaned in, palms flat against the table, “You go rogue, and I’ll hunt you down. I’ll get in your head, become your mirror, fuck your shit up and find you. You saw what I’m capable of with Red Hood, and I’m trying to convince the board that he’s still on the right side of things. At least at our ground level.” She didn’t feel like précising that playing hide and seek with a vigilante was one of her biggest fantasies, even more if she had the right to trap them in her webs.

A long silence followed her speech, and she dreaded for a few seconds that she had bet on the wrong person, but Grayson laughed, and the tension evaporated in the air. Playfully, he murmured, “Did you just quote Spiderman at me, with the secrets? Thought you were more a Batfam fangirl with the sweatshirt and everything.” 

“Shut up, my brother’s a fan.”

“Ah! The famous brother. You wanna tell the class about his name, now that you’re finished scaring the shit out of me?”

“I didn’t scare you, if so, I would be your worst nightmare. No, I just warned you.” Patting her sweatshirt, she smiled fondly. “As for the sweatshirt, it’s a gift. Well, I dunno if it’s a gift or not, but if the person wants it back, then it’ll be only for a few days, just to get the scent back on.” She missed how Grayson stiffened at that, and her expression went from _Imma mess ya up big time if you fuck up_ to _My little poney shitting rainbows_ in a blink. Opening her wallet, she pulled up a photo and handed it out to him. “I don’t even know what he looks like, but I’m a proud big sister and my job is to tell everyone I know that my little brother Isaac is awesome and embarrass him the best way possible.”

She cocked her head to the side at his silence. Eli was pretty sure the table was trembling because of something, but she only knew when she put a hand on his shoulders. Said shoulders that were shaking.

“He replaced the photo didn’t he, that little shit.”

“I mean, if your brother looks like the asshole of a cat with Commissar Noah’s face photoshopped on a naked dude in the background, then _no_ , he didn’t replace it. I think I like him already.” 

“Revenge will be sweet, I’ll tell you that. Anyhow, his name’s Isaac and he’s a nasty little fucker, and you can’t have him, he’s my baby bro. So, over my dead body.”

“Wow, protective much? What’s the reaction when he brings somebody home?”

 _Oh honey, you walked into that one._ The fond smile turned dangerous, and she sweetly spoke, looking like a bloodthirsty fairy with questionable fashion choices. “He never got the chance….”

“Should I be worried I’ll have to arrest you for murder, Eli?” Her name rolled on his tongue, and she inwardly curled into the sound. She liked how her name sounded in his mouth.

“You’ll never find proof.” She taunted, sipping her chocolate. Growing a pair for two seconds in her love life, she decided to test her theory. “But I’ll bet that it would be incredibly sexy to have you in handcuffs.” She smiled, screaming internally. _Why, why, of all the days and the people you could’ve said that to, you choose a colleague?!_ But hey…If Officer Grayson was Nightwing, then he should be dating Red Hood, right? But since she was _supposed_ to have no idea if he was a vigilante or not, she was _also supposed_ to have no idea about his love-sex-life, and _that_ meant it was free game. That, and having the feeling she had a pass with the two vigilantes.

And he invited her for coffee, which, _yes,_ could be only in a friendly way, but…She was getting so many mixed signals here, so going for the kill was ten times easier and saved a headache.

She heard him choke on his drink for the second time today and couldn’t help but to show physically her cringe. Now, it didn’t really seem like a good idea. Killing her teammate with her flirt wasn’t exactly a boost of confidence, and would be _really_ bad for her career if she succeeded. This is why women had a longer life span. They didn’t make stupid decision based on their genital glands. Not normally anyway.

“Too forward?” she murmured, feeling the tip of her ears burn, and cursing the lack of hair to successfully hide the blush creeping on her cheeks. The chocolate cup would have to do, she thought, as she reaffirmed her grip on it. Why couldn’t you just Control+Alt+Delete in real life?

“…-I..” Wow, smooth, Grayson. Nothing here to help her. She had broken him. Not even her first day in a team, and she had taken the biggest one down. With just a comment.

“Okay!” She spoke a bit too cheerfully, trying to hide her embarrassment. “You know what, just forget I said anything about handcuffs and I’ll just tell you how I named my little brother the name he has now.” She gestured with her hands, putting her cup down before she could inadvertently hit him with it. “Sounds good? Sounds good. ‘Cause I really don’t want to explain to our superiors why you won’t talk to me anymore…Are you okay?”

Grayson was now laughing, still coughing the liquid that went in his airways. Made him sound like a wheezing ventilator. She did her best not to jump in surprise and whack him in the face a _second time_ today when he suddenly grabbed her wrist and held on, thumb rubbing circles on her skin. The beast did the naked dance, flipping every furniture available in the back of her brain. _Hope isn’t lost, hell yeah!_

But it was what he murmured who sent them both in a magnificent _high-five, jump, turn around, slap the butt and squeal as high as you can_ routine.

“Oh, I’m not going to forget. I’ll come for you, Fairy, just have a phone call to make before.” He whispered, normally too low for anyone without trained hearing –not as sharp as when at full power, but still above average- to hear. Then, his tone took a slighter tune, and he spoke with a normal voice. “Uhm, honestly, I think the last time I was in handcuffs was when I eighteen and a rebellious teenager.” He laughed, “But I’m still really interest on why _you_ named your little brother. Isn’t that your parents job?”

Eli raised an eyebrow at that obvious lie, before deciding to leave the handcuffs subject on the shelf of _actions that haven’t bitten her in the ass. Yet,_ and took her hot chocolate back in her hands. Smiling, she took her glasses off to rub the edge of her nose and started talking, carefully keeping her eyes closed.

“His first name was Squirrel. The first one I gave when I meet him. He was smaller than me, - I dunno, he would’ve been around four, five or something, so really tiny, not like _now,_ damn giraffe - and made only tiny little noises that reminded me of a squirrel. He would pack food in his room too. Like one time, there was chocolate hidden behind the radiator, I’ll let you imagine how _that_ went.” She took a pause as Grayson laughed openly, but didn’t notice how his phone was on the table and recording the whole conversation. “When we met, he wouldn’t speak. Only sign, which, you know…” She gestured to her face, passing her hand several times in front of her closed eyes. “So, for the first several months, he lived literally attached to my hands to write in my palm, asking about everything and anything.” She didn’t mention the fact that, at one point, she was able to decipher the signs when he was standing in front of her and she could _hear him._ Learning what it meant had been the tricky part, but Isaac had been her translator, signing in front of her and then writing it down in her palm. “And then one day, it was just after – one year maybe… Yeah, it was one year after, he just had turned six - we came to America, I found him in the kitchen, and… I can’t really remember what it was about, but we started a food fight and he threw something at me…Caught me square in the face, he was so proud. First time he ever threw something and it hit the intended target. And I discovered he had thrown an _apple_ at me. So I named him Isaac.” She finished in a _what can you do_ gesture and put her glasses back on.

“You still use the nickname?” the grin was audible. His hand retreated and the beast whined at the loss of contact. She sighed in relief when he didn’t ask further, like _why_ she had met Isaac at only four if they were _supposedly_ blood-related. Surprise, family doesn’t end in blood.

“Oh hell yeah! He may be taller than me now, but it doesn’t change anything. He’s ‘Squirrel’ and still will be with thirty, a partner and two kids.” Cracking her neck. “And you, you gave your siblings nicknames?”

“Duh. I mean, I’m named ‘Dick’, so of course I’m going to give everyone nicknames to share the embarrassment. Tim is Timmy, Timmers, Timbo, Sleepy McCoffee sometimes. Damian is Dami, Demon Spawn –not mine, but for a while, it did fit-, and Little D –cause y’know, I’m Big D.” She snorted and he huffed. “Yes, I know it has sexual innuendoes, but I didn’t think about that, he was _ten._ And maybe one day he won’t be ‘little D’ anymore, but I pray I won’t ever, ever know.”

Laughing openly, she raised her cup as she heard his leave the table with a _clink_. “To annoying little brothers that we love and endure.” She toasted. His coffee thunked against her cup and they drank in companionable silence. Enjoying a good discussion, good company came also with enjoying the silence they were able to give. We also live in those blank moments, and it makes the discussions all the better.

But reality came back, and it had a mullet.

“Merounem? Grayson?” the voice, she knew, but she also recognised the smell of salt – _not his scent, someone else’s. He’s been a busy boy….-_ and metal.

“Kogane? What do I owe the pleasure?” She smiled.

“I was at the meeting. And I wanted to discuss something with you both.” Kogane’s voice changed inclination, like he had turned his head towards someone else. “Commissar Noah told me you were on the ‘Silence’ case, Officer Grayson.”

“Yeah, that would be me. Don’t have much though. Why?”

“There was the explosion near the orphanage yesterday, and this morning we found four thugs, some of them missing limbs, and shaking in front of the station. One said ‘Silence’ had attacked him in his home. No words, nothing, just plain violence. He misses fingers, one of his eyes got destroyed, ribs fractured. One got so scared he can’t even talk anymore. He just looks at every corner in fear.” Eli tried to repress a disgusted expression. She wasn’t contempt with this punishment. She wanted their heads.

“You know why Silence targeted them? That, if it was Silence.” She asked instead, thinking of how they would be brought to justice and be put behind bars and that would have to do. _No killing. Not anymore._

“Silence was on scene yesterday, stopped the missile to hit the orphanage. And the footage showed that one of them fired the bazooka who got the little girl killed. The description of the attacker matches too.”

“Any other victims besides them? Family, kids?” She pushed further.

“Nope. One of the guys has a husband and kids, but he said Silence locked them up, gave him the beating of a lifetime and opened his husband’s door afterwards. They left him a few seconds to say goodbye before they grabbed him and threw him in an alley near our station. He got the concussion, broken ribs –open wounds- and busted kneecap there. Got no other choice but to crawl to the station and turn himself in if he didn’t want to bleed to death.”

“The kids?” Grayson was serious.

“Didn’t hear anything. The guy said he couldn’t say a word or move, he was completely paralysed.”

“So you mean they dragged them there, busted them on your doorstep, and not in their homes.” Grayson’s tone was thoughtful.

“The other ones lived alone, and they said they got beaten down there. Same shit, paralysed, no sound. Didn’t disturb the neighbors.”

“You know why they were near the orphanage in the first place?” She asked, genuinely curious to hear if their story was the same they told her last night.

“Debt to collect. Those thugs didn’t want to say for whom they work, and it seems that their top dog scares them more than a tiny vigilante.”

That was so untrue. Eli tried not to feel offended by that comment. She wasn’t that tiny, alright. _I just know how to be all kinds of persuasive and I don’t want the cops sniffing around._

“Normally, after seeing a vigilante up close- however tiny they might be-, they start chanting like a bird. Don’t you think Silence is searching for something and doesn’t want the police to barge in?” Grayson. Her calculations took another route and she started mapping a whole different lot of contingencies for the _inevitable_ chase down – worse than before, because now they had something real to gnaw and that was always a good motivator- that would occur after her energy levels went back up and she would be cleared for leg work again. _If_ she was right about Son of Gray over there, then the whole Batgang would be on her ass the moment that ‘O’ would spot her on the cameras.

_Guess the ‘let’s make cupcakes with the scary hacker’ plan is a **go** , then. _

Damn, and that was her life. She didn’t even have mind-blowing sex to help her cope. Shit metric ton of cuddles, but even Isaac was starting to go sniffing somewhere else, and not just for cuddles. _Come to think of it, I still got a little birdie to chase and scare. In civilian fashion, of course. And a whole school to burn down with their fucking smooch-ass squeeze-cash policy, leaving students vulnerable to all kinds of abuse._ She was going to have a field day with that. Maybe she would wear her ‘killing fabulously’ heels and plant them in the director’s chest. That was a plan, and she liked it.

“So –Uhm-, I wanted to know if you would take the case, Merounem. We’ll need to understand why Silence is there, and what they want. It’s not serial killers, I get that it’s what you normally eat for breakfast, but they clearly have a specific target and mobile, so we might be able to know more.”

 _Oh boy, here we go._ But of course, ask her to pick her own brain apart, why wouldn’t you. Eli felt the irony of the situation deep, and had to repress a beaten smile.

“I already have Red Hood’s, but sure. Maybe there’s a connection between those two.” There was one, but she fairly certain that Hood wasn’t aware of that. Yet. Grayson hummed his agreement, fingers slightly tapping on the table, so near her hand she could feel his hairs brushing against hers.

“Come to think of it, Kogane, I need your feedback. Was the group convinced or not?” She asked, smiling a little, trying to hide how important his answer would be.

“Wait… Why isn’t my input asked on that?” Grayson’s voice rang, surprise clear enough in his voice for her to pick up on it.

Turning her head to the sound, she tilted her head and held her cup in front of her. “You saw how awful I was before the meeting, me almost losing my shit in a parking lot. And you invited me for coffee afterwards, so I’ll say you’re pretty compromised.”

“I’m not pitying you, I hope you know that.” Anger, maybe hurt. She couldn’t pick apart the subtle difference, not able to decipher his body language. She just hummed, before picking her legs up and throwing them across the seat.

“Kogane?”

Said Officer shook his head like a dog out of water, taking in the slumped form of Merounem in her chair, legs dangling on one side, upper body facing him. Officer Grayson had an indecipherable look on his face, eyes squinted, looking straight at Merounem’s face, who’s face was _clearly_ not pointed towards him.

Oh. _Oh._ _That_ was going to be great blackmail material if Merounem decided to annoy him again with Lance. “Honestly, you weren’t on full power today, and from what I gathered from _that_ little outburst, you went _again_ on a three days with six hours of sleep?” She huffed, and Grayson’s too handsome mug took the bitch face to another notch. _So he wasn’t the only one who noticed._ “But you got us and controlled the room, no problem. Where did you learn to control your voice like that, by the way? I think you could’ve asked us to start twerking or imitate a cow, we wouldn’t have ticked.”

Eli hummed again, before putting her cup back down and folding her hands across her stomach. “How many of them were ‘interested’ after that?”

Grayson answered before he could open his mouth. “Four. Joe was looking at you with bedroom eyes the moment you entered the room, and he didn’t stop for the whole meeting. You met him before?” Eli just bit a nail, curving an eyebrow, like she was _really_ thinking about it.

“Tall, voice filled with Middle- Eastern accent, body mass around eighty-five kilos?” Grayson clearly did the conversion in pounds in his head before nodding and saying ‘Yes’, still squinting at her. “Never heard of him.” _There._ That was her smile when she was fucking around with someone. And Grayson was clearly her victim. Kogane couldn’t stop a scoff at the blatant lie.

“You maybe don’t know him _intimately_ , but you know who he fucks, Merounem. Don’t lie.” She just toasted to his scoff before sipping loudly. Clacking her tongue, she said nothing. Kogane decided to throw a limb out there and spoke again. “Like you know who Red Hood fucks. You’ve known for long. Don’t think I didn’t notice the smile when Commissar told you to know _everything_ about him, even specifying whom he would be in bed with.”

Grayson leaned in at that, shoulders slightly hunched, and Merounem’s head tilted in his direction, right ear turned to him. She had heard that. Her smile became even brighter, almost downright scary, before she smoothed her features and a serious expression came up.

“Maybe I know, but honestly, it won’t lead us anywhere.” Grayson’s head tilted at that, listening. “We know Hood is leaning to the paranoid side, so logical conclusion is that if he’s seeing someone, it’s someone meaningful.” She squished her nose, like she wanted to say something else, but continued. “And if you think for one second that approaching him through them is a good idea, then your survival rate is going to drop very, _very_ low in the few days. And I’m not suicidal, so I don’t want to end up with a gun to my head and a pissed of crime lord/vigilante on the other end.” Kogane nodded, but she wasn’t finished. “And you know that Commissar Noah sees him as a potential ally, -that’s the point of this whole meeting, in a way-. The top dogs don’t, but they’re not down there trying to save lives and stop criminality. So approaching the significant other is last resort, but only if we do it right.”

Grayson sunk back in his chair, arms crossed, a thoughtful expression on his face. Kogane hummed, before clicking his tongue in understanding. “You think he’s in bed with one of the Bats. No wonder he would go bat-shit crazy if we approached them.”

Eli snorted, before pushing her glasses back on her nose. Grayson stayed awfully silent. “I never said that, and I’ll never confirm anything you said. But it’s not Hood we’ll have to worry about if he’s with a Bat.”, she shrugged. Kogane could only copy her movements as he felt dread run along his spine. All the Bats, retired or not, were above _holy shit dangerous_.

Grayson smiled, and leaned in to reach for Eli’s cup, placing his on the spot, leaned back and took a sip. The scrunch in his told everyone what he thought of that drink. “And who do you think he’s with?” he asked, sipping another one, because _once you got used to the taste, it’s not that bad…_

Eli reached for the cup resting near her hand and Kogane waited with bathed breath as she took a sip, focusing on her face. _The last time someone switched her drink it didn’t end really well…_ A morbid part of himself wanted to know what would happen.

“I’m not going to -… Grayson.”

“Hum?” _unrepentant, that bastard._

“Do you value your kneecaps?”

“I do want to be able to kneel for someone, yes.” Eli’s expression told him that she _wasn’t ready for that kind of image, thank you fucking much._ She went beet red as a thoughtful expression passed on her face, before making grabby hands in Grayson’s direction.

“Gimme back my unholy beverage, like you called it. If I have to die of a heart attack, then let it be by sugar and not flirty colleagues.”

“Make me.”

Kogane was really beginning to feel like a third wheel. So much for trying to return to normal after a space war… Aliens, he could get. But humans were way out of his grasp. Sighing, he tapped Eli on the shoulder, before leaning down and whispering. “Imma leave now, ‘cause as much as I value you as a teammate, I really don’t want to be there to see that weird nuptial dance that’s happening right now.” A smile graced her lips, teasing, but before she could speak and say whatever bullshit running around in her head, he continued. “But don’t think that makes any of that _invaluable_ blackmail material. So, next time, I’ll be the one bringing condoms when an administration meeting starts.” 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me. Ah… No, that doesn’t work…So, listen to me, I guess?” She just snorted and tapped on Kogane’s shoulder, her smile turning dangerous at the challenge.

Kogane marched away, whipping his phone out to call Lance and heavily discuss about the two idiots that were going to rock his world, in a _I’ll end with grey hair because of much I worry about you_ kind of way. If he heard a squeak and something being spilled, then maybe he’ll have to check if anyone got burned, but not before he got his own shot of caffeine.

Black, like his soul.

* * *

Damian was helping Pennyworth clean the dishes, only because Grayson told him that it would show the old man that, _yes_ , he did care about him, enough to want to give a hand in domestic tasks, when he realised that Isaac was nowhere to be seen.

The idiot must’ve gone to the toilet and lost himself in the hallways. The Manor was pretty big after all. Not that Damian himself had been lost the first time he came here, that would absolutely ridiculous, but it meant that he had now the mission of hunting down a lost teenager that could be in the Batcave for all he knew. Turning towards the butler, he put the rag on the counter and looked at him in the eyes. “Do you know where Merounem might be?”

The raised eyebrow was enough to tell him that it was his job to put a bell on his friend’s collar if he didn’t want him lost. Sighing, he whistled for Titus before exiting the kitchen a “I’ll find him myself then.” falling off his lips.

First stop, the entrance. Taking one of Isaac’s shoes, he brought it to Titus’ nose, making him sniff it. He could’ve find Isaac by himself, but the taller boy hadn’t seen Titus yet and Damian wanted to scare him a little bit. So bringing the dog into the mix it was. Titus took a good sniff, whined, because _damn, that stinks._ Even Damian could smell it, and he could imagine what it could be like for superior senses. _Had Kryptonian powers at one point in my life, remember?_ Patting his dog’s head, he murmured “Search, my friend. We need to find him before he does something stupid.”

Titus’ head levelled down, snout on the ground. He searched left and right for a few seconds before starting to run upstairs, his claws clinkering on the wood on the side of the stairs. Damian ran after him, a tiny smile gracing his lips, already imaging Isaac’s reaction at the sight of the enormous dog sprinting toward him.

But Titus didn’t stop at his room. He sniffed several times, nose in the air, whined in confusion, and turned around before starting running again past the door. He barked one time at Tim emerging of his room, hair pulled in a bun, wearing sweatpants and a white shirt. The co-CEO was alert, probably out for a coffee hunt, emerging of deep sleep after flipping Ra’s the bird for the second time this month. Grandfather was really beginning to look desperate, it was pathetic to see and _know that_ this excuse of a human being was the head of the League of Shadows. Running past the older teenager, he only waved at him, missing the shocked expression at the lack of any insult, _I’m better than you, suck it lowlife_ speech. Just a wave, and a little nod.

Tim shook his head, and against his better judgement, disregarded the idea of coffee to follow his little brother that was _absolutely not_ behaving like his normal self. Come to think of it, Demon Spawn hadn’t antagonized him with pointy things to squishy parts of his anatomy for several weeks. He smelled the trap, but a tiny, hopeful and _delusional_ part of his brain was crossing its finger for it to be a real change. He wanted to teach him everything about memes, slang and pop culture. So he followed him, coffee be damned.

During the intern pondering happening inside Drake’s head, Damian had closed on Titus, who was running faster, turning left and passing by Father’s bedroom, continuing his sprint straight. Damian realised the destination, and his stomach dropped in his socks. They were heading to Martha’s and Thomas’s bedroom. Room that had been condemned to all by Father, memories weighting down his conscience, only Pennyworth was allowed in to clean.

Yes, _allowed_. But they were Bats, and Bats had secrets, heavier than normal people’s maybe.

So it didn’t mean that Damian hadn’t entered it. Or made it his secret heaven, stashing all his secrets in that room because he _knew_ that no one in their right mind would search up there. Not if they feared Father’s wrath. The door was cracked open, a glimmer of light exiting on the hallway. Running faster, Damian grabbed Titus by the neck –a collar was an insult to Titus training and got only put on during walks- and forced him to come to halt in front of the door. Good move, because Titus was starting to grow anxious, thrown off by something and was whining quietly. Slipping his arm around his dog’s neck, he made him sit by a click of his tongue, caressing his fur in an attempt to soothe his nerves and calm Titus. But a dog knows when you’re anxious, and if it considers you close, then you being anxious will make it anxious too. So it wasn’t really working. Crouching, Damian peeped and eye in.

The sight that welcomed him grasped his heart and wrenched it out of his thorax.

The stash on the ceiling were he had all his embarrassing and hurtful secrets was open, the cover laying on the covers of the bed. Papers, paintings, little nothings and object that had marked him since he came to Gotham were spread out, on display to the whole word. 

And Isaac was standing in the middle of the room, several drawings clutched in his left hand, and there was a sword in his right.

The Heretic’s sword.

The sword that had pierced him through and through, leading him to his death. A sword wielded by maybe his adult clone, but the command coming from Mother. The betrayal only revived when he discovered the sword sitting by the edge of his bed one morning, a note saying “For melancholy purposes, my son”. Sure, Mother, why not pour the whole pot of salt and move the knife in the wound for good measure.

Sword that was in Isaac’s hand, and Isaac not looking like himself. Expression tense, eyes empty, traits set in a disgustingly accurate expression of his older counterpart. And those eyes turned to him, pinning him.

“Come out, Heir of the Demon’s Head. Meet your fate.” Was spoken in a voice unnatural coming from the throat of his friend.

A voice he heard in nightmares- if they weren’t memories-, guts flying and tears flowing freely in the trap of his mind. A voice he couldn’t escape because he was bound to hear it every day the moment his would change. Had started to change.

Mechanically, he stood up, ignoring Titus’ whines and Tim coming running, so many questions on his lips falling to a screeching halt as he took the situation in. Pushing the door open, he entered.

His lunch stuck in his throat, he stepped into the room, schooling his features to wear the mask Mother had drilled into him. He was وريث رأس الشيطان, not one to back down from a fight, especially when it was a nightmares creation. The knife in his hand felt like a tooth picker, but he had taken out armies with a spoon. His drawings were released and put down on the comforter as he placed himself in front of Isa..-No, The Heretic. Heretic’s left hand grabbed the hilt of the sword and drew it out, disregarding the sheath on the ground. He stood now with the sword inches away from Damian’s sternum, a tiny smirk taunting his lips.

“-Tt- You are nothing, وريث رأس الشيطان,. Too weak to be with your mother, too soft to follow in your father’s footstep. What are you, if not a failure?”

At those harsh words, Damian finally understood what was happening. Like he understood the rhythm Isaac had been taping with his left foot and how his right hand was now hitting inexistent piano keys on his leg. That song that had sometimes made him wonder if the Heretic had a conscience, questions about himself and his place in the world, like he had when he first discovered Father’s existence, the bunch of misfits he had around him, when the Heretic was presented as a better version of himself, his value dropping to Mother’s eyes. If the Heretic, if not being him, was like him.

The song wrapped itself around him, letting him hear the first notes. He took a steadying breath and started to sing, hoping it would bring him closure. “ _I’m not scared…”_ He began, looking at Heretic dead in the eyes. “… _of the da-ark.” “I’m not running, running, running...No, I’m not afraid of the fall.”_ At those words, he brought up all the good memories of running across rooftops, launching himself across Gotham’s sky because he _knew_ that someone would be there to catch him if something went wrong. That he had a safety net and he had the right to make mistakes and learn from them.

“ _I’m not scared…”_ A huff of disbelief escaped Heretic’s lips, but Damian had started. “ _...not at all.”_ And he spoke the following lyrics as it had ring to him the first time he had heard Grayson sing them absently. “ _Why would a star- a star- ever be… afraid of the dark?”_

Placing himself in front of Heretic, all his resentment, his hurt because of that betrayal, bubbled to the surface and he sung with all his lungs, his traits showing nothing of the Heir to the Demon he was supposed to be. “ _I’m not scaea-eaea-aaeared!”,_ Tim’s heart wrenched at the display of hurt, anger, sadness the Ice Prince was showing, before he took his phone out and started recording, maybe to ensure himself he wasn’t dreaming. “ _I’m not saea-eaea-aaeared o-of the stars.”_ Damian almost spat at the Heretic’s face, almost looking like he was trying to convince himself.

“ _I’m not scared of the dark…of the da-ark.”_ Got murmured in a lower tone, Damian keeping his eyes down on the carpet. He missed how the word got in movement, and pocked him in the chest. “ _Dontcha?”_ got murmured as Isaac’s baritone sneered in his ear. “ _I ain't never scared and I ain't never horrified.”_ mocked him, the arm without the sword lopping around him and showing him his wrist, “ _I just look down at my Rolex, it said it's the darkest times.”_ The Heretic morphed his features, and he looked like Damian, younger, same arrogance, and that voice taunted him, throwing his words back at him. “ _I ain’t never terrified, I ain’t never petrified.”_ He got in a fighting position, sword gripped with both hands, and Damian, oh Damian, tears running along his cheeks, eyes cold, gripping that excuse of a knife, got ready too. “ _You know I see dead people, I tell ‘em ‘Get a life’ “,_ was spat by Heretic as the sword went down, destined to cut Damian in half. But it was Isaac’s body and swordsmanship wasn’t really his forte. But he was quick. “ _I ain’t never scurred, I’m not sure if that’s a word but…”_

 ** _WHAM._** The bed’s pillar took the sword as Damian evaded it. “ _I mean every word, feelin’ like ‘Do not disturb’, wait!”_ Heretic just stilled, stilling the atmosphere in the room. Pointing to Damian, taking his voice again, “ _Let me testify, I have never testified”. **CRAACK.** _Jumping in his space, the sword embedding in the wall next to him, spitting every flaw in his face “ _And I’m married to my pride, I ain’t never, never cried… I got eyes like marbles, if I cry, they sparkle.”_

“Shut up!”, Damian still, tears flowing freely as he let Heretic –who was wearing his friend as meat suit-. The grin on Isaac’s face was nothing like him. “ _You know I can your mind like I’m the au-thor.”_ Heretic’s face looking now serious, distressed even. _“There’s a line for tomorrow and that line’s getting shorter.”_

_“I’m behind the trigger, what if- I- am the target?”_

He schooled his expression again, and the fight was on once again. The sword disregarded, Heretic lunged at Damian, his tone vitriolic and insane. “ _Deep sigh, sayonara, I ain’t afraid to die.”_ Punch to the jaw, Damian’s head jerked to the left. “ _It’s either goodbye or good mornin’, and the skies start to fallin’.”_ Grab the head, forcing him to look at those empty eyes. “ _And I’ma shine in the darkness.”_ White teeth, going for the jugular.

 ** _WHAMM._** Heretic on the floor, blood running from his nose. Smile bloody, eyes on his wrist with Damian very calm above him, “ _I look back at my Rollie. It says, ‘Time for the Chorus’.”_

Damian’s hands lunged and Tim grabbed Titus by the fur. Whatever was going on, intervening now would only fuck it up. Damian could’ve killed Isaac since long ago, and that head-butt had been controlled.

“ _You know, I’m not sca-ared…”_ Hands in Heretic’s hair, a forehead against his. “ _…of the da-ark.”_ A sigh against his face. “ _I’m not running, running, running.”_ Green eyes into empty ones, starting to take a green tone to them. “ _No, I’m not afraid of the fall.”_ A sardonic ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah’ coming from under. Hands tightening in the mop of hair, to get the point across. “ _I’m not scared, not at all.”_ A broken laugh, ‘I ain’t never scared, I ain’t never scared’ turning like a broken record. “ _Why would a star –a star- ever be afraid of the dark?”_ murmured intimately, rhetorically. Tears starting to flow on Heretic’s face, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah’ following. 

“ _I’m not scaea-eaea-aaeared.”_ with more force, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah’ taking more power in response, believing. “ _I’m not scaea-eaea-aaeared, even from the start!”_ A smile on both of their faces, open for Damian, timid for Heretic, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah’ growing stronger. “ _I’m not scared…”_ Eyes closed, accepting, forgiving, _“…of the dark.”_ Hands timidly reaching up, looping around Damian’s neck, murmuring ‘I ain’t never scared, I ain’t never scared’, a new purpose, a new belief in those words, not an order, but a streak of wisdom and life lesson. “ _Of the dark.”_ Tears mix, breathy laughs, ‘I ain’t never scared, I ain’t never scared’, a mantra and an acceptance.

“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.”_ Singing together. Isaac’s body going limp in Damian’s arms as Heretic’s presence faded away, now in peace.

Damian wiped his tears away, cradling Isaac on his lap, making sure he wasn’t injured anywhere else than the obvious hit to the nose. But his smile couldn’t be pushed down, he had found closure. Even as Isaac groaned and crawled back into the world of the living, he couldn’t squash it down, in fact, it grew impossibly larger as Isaac moved back to consciousness.

“Oh my fucking bloody head. You sure know how to break someone’s nose, Wayne. What happened?” He grimaced, as he replaced his nose in the right position, muffling a scream. 

Damian was at loss of words to explain _what the fuck just happened_ , with the dopey smile he couldn’t even control and he just wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it. So he just started sputtering, imitating very well a fish, before shrugging. But Isaac cut his pathetic attempt to come up with an explanation very quickly as he gave him a once over, scanning Damian from head to toe.

“Dude?! The red on your stomach’s gone!” Isaac’s hands flew to his chest, prodding the zone, his eyes wide in surprise. And Damian just lost it.

He laughed, maybe on the hysterical side of the things, but relief bleed through, tears flowing free. He fell backwards on the carpet, Isaac falling with him. He saw the sword still in the wall, dangling around like a giant toothpicker, just above his grandmother’s photo resting on the cupboard, looking like having a stick up your ass was trend back in the days, and he was lost again. He laughed, and laughed and laughed like he had never in his life, belly cramping, mouth dry of any spit, tears on his cheeks. Isaac picked on the situation enough to understand that losing your shit laughing was completely normal and followed him after.

Damian laid on his left side, arms around himself to try and control his laughter, but every time he would look at Isaac lying like a starfish on the carpet, he would start all over again, and Isaac would follow. Happiness, relief showed through and Damian was letting the fuck go of all the impact those three years had been since he had come back to life.

Tim just ended the video, and pushed Titus in, -Isaac screamed at the Gigantor of a dog adamant to start a doggy pile. Damian just went through a set of hiccups, wheezing, looked back at Isaac basically engulfed in a Titus hug, and laughed even harder-, and walked silently back to the kitchen, deciding to analyse the hell that just happened with a cup of coffee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried uploading it at 2.30 AM, and guess what? the website just restarted and 1h30 of effort just flushed down the metaphorical toilet in the span of 20 sec. Just infuriating. 
> 
> I wanna read your feedback on the singing scenes, cuz I have some more planned (Eli singing 'Classic' to Jason has been running a fucking marathon for some time in my brain). and if you have music propositions, lemme know.  
> But damn, I may have won the battle with that chapter, I haven't won the war with that story. 
> 
> Yes, I quoted Charles de Gaulle à ma sauce. Bite me.  
> And Eli swore saying 'Merde', it means 'Shit'....in French. There you go. 
> 
> Tell me what you thought about it, and Stay home if you can.  
> With that, peace out!


	8. Who, When, How?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Hell yaaasss bitches! Daddypool is back!  
> Hey, DP! How's the flu?  
> -oh, you didn't know? Wasn't the flu that got me. Shit virus attacked me, had no smell, my muscles were fucking pudding and...Why are you looking at me like that?  
> ....You got the Covid. You, a mutant anti-hero, got Covid. You. Who is basically immortal.  
> \- Why are you stepping away from me, Author? Don't run, I'm not sick anymore!  
> OH HELL NO, I AIN'T GETTING THAT SHIT ON ME! I'VE GOT A LIFE TO LIVE! TELL MY KIDS I LOVE THEM  
> -Will you stop being dramatic?  
> NO!

Isaac laid wide awake on the bed, the living embodiment of a blanket burrito. Wide awake, but damn exhausted, and he didn’t understand why he couldn’t fall asleep. Diner had been very quiet, Damian clearly exhausted by whatever the hell happened in the room. Not exhausted like he was ready to snap at any moment if left unsupervised, but exhausted like he had finally let go of something heavy and was now feeling the aftermath. _And hey, laughing’s tiring too._

But Isaac couldn’t fall asleep now, and that started to be worrying. He tried to have a sleeping pattern as normal as it could be: with school stressing him out and bullying, a mistake was rapidly made. Having a sleeping pattern like Eli’s was _not_ a plan –her bags were having babies behind those Matrix glasses-. But now he was starting to wonder what was sheer stubbornness and what was her body refusing to go to sleep.

 _Why?_ That was the million dollars’ question. 

And on top of that, Damian’s brother had so many questions Isaac didn’t want to answer. The dude was really nosy and he could see him literally vibrating on his chair during dinner. Only Damian had saved him from a bad lie by hogging Timothy’s attention during the whole meal with some questions about economics or whatever. Don’t ask him, he wants to be a detective later. But if the look said anything about someone, it was saying that Timothy wasn’t going to give up. Sighing, Isaac bundled himself further in the covers, trying to get warm.

_Warmth. Wait…Warmth like for Eli?_

The question made him close his eyes and internally check his energy levels. _Shit._ Damn it, he was running dry. It had been a long time since the reminiscing presence of a person took him over and that was bond to run him dry. And now that puberty had started, the energy he produced himself wasn’t enough to build those extra set of energy back from a scratch. When someone says that kids are an endless source of energy, it’s not mentally meant. They are, physically. And now, first step in adulthood- drum rolls…-, he had to find a power source – aka an another human being- to avoid turning into a raging beast or die in pain. Well, the first before the second, but it would end badly one way or the other.

Now he understood why Eli was very tactile. Whenever she could, she would grab him to give him a hug, to lay a hand on his arm. He had asked her about it once, and the first thing she had said was ‘To know that you’re still here.’ To know that he was okay and unharmed was soothing for her and gave her control, grounding her turmoil and keeping her sane. And she also could take a little bit of energy from him, to restore hers she was using all the time.

He clearly remembered being four and basically living glued to her back or torso, focusing on being her power source for them to go forward, to run. For her to be strong enough to get them away. The relief in her voice when she said that, that he was safe, that they had made it, they got away. When everything became black as he proceeded to pass out and scare the shit out of her.

But now, it wouldn’t work anymore. Her giving him energy was _not_ an option, like they had the argument a thousand times before- didn’t stop her from doing it, though, he still had to figure how she did that, though-, and the reverse was getting impossible too. And it meant he would start eating a lot more…Talk about being suspicious in school, really.

Cracking an eye open, he looked at the clock. _2:36 am._ Holy Mother Theresa on a skateboard, it was late. And he couldn’t sleep. Resigned, he threw the sheets to the side and exited the bedroom, making his way in the darkness of the hallway. Slipping in his hoodie, he heavily went the stairs down, his whole body bouncing with each steps, too tired to stand straight. He didn’t go to Damian’s room, not wanting to disturb anything, should it be vigilante business or teenager sleep.

_Come to think of it, how does he bypass his family? Must be weird to sneak out to fight crime…_

He then remembered that it was the middle of the night and waking up everyone with his elephant steps would be counterproductive, so he muffled the sound of his feet. He patted Titus on the head as he came in front of the kitchen, shushing him with a scratch behind the ears. There was no light under the door, but Isaac picked on a faint clicking repeating in the room. Someone was in there, or maybe Mr. Pennyworth had forgot to turn off the coffee machine... But the butler didn’t strike him as someone forgetful. So option one it was.

He didn’t want to meet anyone at the ungodly hour, really, too many interactions for one day. Rubbing his eyes, he sent a quick prayer to whoever was listening and willing to take one for the team, and silently pushed the door open.

He was greeted with the remaking the Hunchback of Notre Dame in front of their computer, blue light giving them the pallor of a corpse, hair falling in front of their face, muffling their muttering. Wasn’t creepy at all, nope. Another lost soul trapped in the Manor, maybe. ( _you won’t get his mind off the fact that this Manor is fucking haunted. Not after what happened in the room. Fucking rich psychos with their fucking rich creepy houses.)_ But Mr. Pennyworth assured him that the Manor had top notch security and their inhabitants were more than capable of defending his honour. Damian’s big brothers –higher in the hierarchy then Timothy- were also supposed to crash tonight to the Manor. Mr. Pennyworth didn’t specify on what motive. Maybe this was one of them. But he really didn’t want to meet them, not right now.

But food, his stomach argued- loudly- and Isaac made a decision.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped in and switched the light on, signalling his presence and getting a better look at the same time. The Hunchback jumped in the air in surprise and hissed at the sudden flood of light. Isaac had to admit, it stung a bit to go from semi-complete darkness to _hello there sunshine!_ Surprisingly, the Hunchback straightened, becoming an average human, blinking several times the pain away. Isaac recognised Timothy behind the strands of hair falling askew, and a dread made the hairs on his neck stand up. He didn’t want to be questioned. He didn’t want to know why the first reflex Timothy had was to grab the hilt of something resting on his leg, why his face had smoothed out to an expressionless mask, why the yellow had swirled to his hands and mouth, why there was a black hole in his chest. Why those actions had only lasted a split second and he was now smiling at him like everything was fine in the world.

Too many questions. _Depression, anxiety. He was expecting an attack. But from whom?_ Mr. Pennyworth’s assurance that nothing could attain him at the Manor made him wonder at what cost for its inhabitants.

Putting his hands up, he entered the kitchen with his eyes cast to the side. “Hey, sorry to disturb you.” He spoke softly, like he would approach Eli when she was leaning on the insane side of dangerous. “You got any hot chocolate here?”

The fake smile morphed into an embarrassed real one, the yellow going to the sole of his feel, and Timothy stood up to make his way to Isaac, closing his laptop. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you. Nightmares?”

Isaac thought of how his big sis was struggling every day, how it was slowly becoming his reality, and chuckled ironically. “Yeah, you could say that.” He reached the kitchen counter, and put his hands on it to control his nerves. Showing fear in front of a predator was the worst way to handle a situation.

“Want to talk about it?” Timothy looked slightly uncomfortable at this point. Maybe he wasn’t really a predator tonight. _Not one to talk about emotions, are we?_

“Sure. If you tell me why you’re typing like a madman on your computer in complete darkness instead of sleeping. Got the feeling I was watching a cliché hacker plotting his next move for a second.”

Tim laughed and took the message as it was. _Back off._ The boy was maybe as tall as he was, but he was still a boy he met yesterday. And the context of that meeting wasn’t really helping. Opening the upper cupboard, he took the box next to the coffee and took a good sniff. Looking at Isaac in the eyes before the youngest adverted his after a split second, he stretched his hand out for him to test the cocoa. A sniff later and Isaac nodded eagerly, eyes _lit._

“This is good stuff.”

“I hope so, because Alfred is nothing but the best.”

How something as simple as chocolate could make Isaac switch modes, how his whole demeanor changed, his back straightening, his shoulders going back, was beyond Tim. It was like looking at a dog with its ears down suddenly start yapping and waggling its tail. Too damn simple. He envied those people who could switch from one emotion to another and hold nothing back, to live fully. And there he was, unable to be that, to express those emotions, to not plan anything, to not analyse everyone, to not _be ready for anything that could go to shit –like him-_. He had the feeling Kon and Steph were only sticking around because they pitied him, that the whole gang only saw him as something useful and it would too much of a bother to replace him. He didn’t really need them to confirm it, he already saw himself as something like that and-

Isaac snapped his fingers to a rhythm he only could hear, but it got Tim’s attention back on track. He had two mugs filled with cocoa powder, the milk was stirring in the pot, and Tim himself was standing awkwardly in front of him. Alfred would skin him alive if he knew that he was letting the _guest_ do everything by himself in the house he was invited in. _Et voilà… another thing I failed at. You’re nothing but a failure, Timothy Drake. You’re not even a Way-_

“Do you think orange elephants could statistically exist?”

That question had the merit to make him stop spiralling.

“No.” Categorical, but his brain was making cross-references and analysing the probability of such an event happening, calculating where in the tree of evolution to the elephants they knew today the mutation had to appear, what were the risks. If there was even a probability that the elephants were orange at the start, and had mutated to be grey. Would this orange offer any advantage in the wild life of the savannah…

He snapped out of it and glared at Isaac, who was handing him his ‘You Matter’ mug, the one with atoms on it. That boy was intelligent and perceptive. He shouldn’t have been able to pick up on his inner turmoil. His family most of the time didn’t see it. So why could Isaac? Arching an eyebrow, Isaac sipped his mug and chuckled, pointing a finger to Tim’s. “I figured this one had to be yours. I mean, I didn’t meet your other brothers, but I got a scientific vibe coming from you.”

“Must be the glasses.” Tim pushed an inexistent pair of them up his nose, sardonically.

“Naaa, the haircut.” Isaac laughed at his look, before blushing red from the neck to the tip of his ears. His eyes went wide, and he put his hand in front of his mouth, mortified. “I’m so sorry!” got out muffled. He looked ready to die from embarrassment. He looked downright adorable, and Tim wondered how in the holy hell this incarnation of politeness and respect was friend with Demon Spawn. But appearances could be deceiving, that roast was proof enough. 

“It’s fine. I walked into that one.” He chuckled, and his brain supplied unhelpfully that there was no use to get a haircut, nobody would like him either way. He was garbage picked on the streets, a _replacement_ , not even fitting in the family because he wasn’t built like a tanker, he wasn’t as graceful as the other Robins, he-

-He needed to get back to work, only to get the voice to stop _speaking_. Because working himself to the bone and make himself useful for others was something he was good at. 

Still holding on his façade, Tim smiled at Isaac to ensure him everything was fine ( _it’s not, and you’re lying again, you piece of utter garbage. Nothing but lies. **You’re a lie.** ) _and met Isaac looking _through_ him. Isaac’s eyes were following something on him, eyebrows scrunched. He almost looked… _angry?_ Before his features smoothed out and seemed to remember that he was fixating on a living person, that had _many_ questions. He went even redder and adverted his eyes from Tim. “I’m interrupting you in your work, aren’t I? I’m sorry, I should just _fuck off_ \- go away and- _go die from embarrassment -_ leave you alone and…-“

“Isaac.” He placated before a word vomit could happen. “It’s fine. You’re a guest, and you obviously seem too pent up to go back to sleep. Stay if you want, I’ll go back to work and I’m not going to bother you.” Tim retreated to his place at the kitchen table, rubbing his eyes and opened his laptop to look at those Wayne Enterprise graphics. The kitchen fell in silence, only interrupted by sips and the click of his mouse.

Isaac sipped his cup, trying to soothe his nerves, and not see everything that happened like a trap. _He_ had proposed to make hot chocolate, _he_ decided to stay, not Timothy. Timothy had been civil, polite, had even gone out of his way and asked him if he wanted to vent, offering help. He hadn’t asked questions about anything that happened this afternoon, just made sure he was alright. The cocoa wasn’t spiked; Timothy had been too lost in thoughts to make them. And even if the powder was, then they were both fucked, but he wouldn’t be in danger, since Tim would be drugged too. But why the hell was he so unsettled by that interaction?

_Because that man is a master in masks._

If not for the colour swirling around his body, Isaac would have no idea what Timothy was feeling. This man was a pro in obscuring his emotions and what was hidden wasn’t pretty. But the biggest question of all popped in his brain when he watched Timothy smile at him as the black hole was literally sucking the yellow Timothy produced. It was beautiful to see, like rays of sunshine swirling faster and faster before disappearing in the black forever. Beautiful, and fucking dangerous for the person. _Why?_ Why the hell did Timothy think it would be better to hide all of… that? Better, who made him think he should hide it? He had seen those two colours during dinner, but Tim wasn’t lying the fondness in his voice when he bantered with Damian, when he laughed with Mr. Pennyworth, so why? Why was it taking such an abrupt turn now? The night wasn’t the time for the monster to come out, it was the best time to remember why it was cool to be alive and conscious of everything around you! 

His chocolate finished, Isaac set his cup down and started writhing his hands in worry. Timothy was perfectly stoic in front of his computer, seemingly concentrated on whatever was on it. But the black, oh, the black was making yellow swirl the wrong way, sending strands everywhere as two currents clashed with one another, emotions going askew with it. Unconsciously, Timothy put a strand of hair behind his air, and the black hole grew bigger in a jolt. Isaac got startled, realising he was watching something very _wrong_ happening. How could Timothy still be alive? He had never seen a hole that big on someone before. Everybody with a hole slightly smaller were actively considering suicide. 

_Okay. You know what? Fuck that._

He tapped his right foot two times on the floor, before remembering that it wasn’t Eli he was going to approach. Taking three steps, he stopped right in front of Timothy’s laptop. “You working on anything I shouldn’t be seeing right now?” he asked.

Timothy looked up at him, the contrary movements on his body stopping for a second. “Ehm, no. I’m looking at reports. Why?”

That was the question Isaac didn’t want to answer. Cracking his knuckles, he looked at Timothy deeply in the eyes for the first time since he entered the kitchen, and now he was a _man on a mission._ “You good with touch?”

The eyebrow went higher on Timothy’s forehead. “As long as it’s nowhere sexual, yeah I’m good. _Why?_ ”

Without responding- _dude, I’m **fourteen** , not going to jump your bones, gross-_, Isaac went to work. He wasn’t as good as Eli, but he had learned from the best, so he couldn’t fail. His hands smoothed over Timothy’s shoulders as he went behind him, and he dig his thumbs in the armed concrete that was Timothy’s shoulders. The jolt was not because of pain, yellow not going on his stomach, but pure surprise, and Isaac _saw_ that hand go grip his thigh for a second time tonight, before relaxing. The rest of his fingers gripped Timothy’s collarbone, and he started massaging the muscles in circular motions.

Isaac kept talking to give Timothy something to anchor himself on. “Sorry, I need to do something with my hands, and you look like ‘wood stick’ could be your middle name.” A breathy laugh exited Timothy’s mouth and Isaac saw how the yellow started to drape itself on his fingers and the sole of his feet. But the black hole had a spurt of activity, and started turning at a higher pace. Isaac didn’t understand. Why was Timothy feeling bad because of a _massage?_ It wasn’t like Isaac had given him a choice in the matter…

Then it hit him.

 _He thinks you’re pitying him, that you’re doing this for him._ He wasn’t wrong per say, but Isaac was just seeing a man with a beautiful mind that might need a hand to go to sleep and Isaac _really_ needed to have something in his hands to stop spiralling. Win-win situation here, no need to get emotional.

Isaac huffed an ironic laugh, and started raking his nails on Timothy’s back, giving something to distract that train of thoughts. It worked, but only to an extent. This dude’s mind was worse than Eli’s and making him stop, only for a few minutes or hours, would be superhuman.

Good thing Isaac wasn’t completely human.

Leaning in, he scratched Timothy’s head, grasping and releasing strands of hair, raking his nails from the top of the forehead to the nape of the neck. Timothy was still as tense as club, but Isaac could feel that it was more stubbornness then the body too awake to relax. Timothy’s mind was the only obstacle. Capturing the strands falling to the front, he tilted the older man’s head towards him, before smoothing his palms on his jaw and reach the temples. He saw the hole regressing as he scratched behind the ears with his thumbs, before it sprang to life again. Timothy was leading a battle with himself. Deciding to redirect the thoughts, Isaac started to speak, setting a pace with his voice to match a calm heartbeat.

“I didn’t really give you a choice in this, sorry.” He said to those blue eyes watching him like a hawk. “But this relaxes me, you have no idea. When I was a kid, Eli would do this to me to get me to sleep.”, he laughed. “I couldn’t stay in place, buzzing with energy. The number of times she chased me down to wrestle me to bed is embarrassing, I swear. And one day, I walked in her room, and I saw her working her ass off, and I thought ‘Man, every time she does this weird thing with her hands’ –don’t laugh, I was seven or eight at the time-, ‘I fall asleep in twenty seconds top. And I know she has this super important paper to turn in for tomorrow, and she didn’t sleep for two nights in a row.’ So my eight years old brain makes a plan and I jump on her to do what she did to me all those nights before bed, hoping she’d fall asleep and not up wake in time for tomorrow… I fail miserably.” He deadpanned, earning a chuckle from Timothy, who’s eyes were now closed. “Should’ve gone in with horse tranqs, it would’ve been ten times easier. She just grabbed me by the neck, one press at the base of the collarbone and I was snoring. The next day I wake up _mad_. And I decide to learn and _one day_ I’ll be able to do it like her –I think the exact thought was along those lines:” He took an extreme high voice. “ ‘One day, I’ll make her fall asleep so hard, she’ll never wake up!’ I was basically wishing for her to fall in a coma…Kinda creepy though. And I learned, and I discovered why she would do this to me every time. It’s a great way to concentrate and learn how to dose your force, how people tick.” He couldn’t repress the smile when Timothy let his head fall forward as he went down to his shoulder blades. “And I takes my mind off things, because I have to concentrate on the person in front of me. But I was never able to send my sis to sleep like that, never. Must be bigger sibling superpower or some shit.”

Timothy was more sluggish now, and Isaac could see that the movement of the black hole had decreased. The hole itself hadn’t disappeared, but it wasn’t eating Timothy’s colour anymore. Not tonight. But Isaac knew that it was just a temporary solution, and anything would break the fragile balance and send Timothy in a frenzy or completely shut off.

 _This is so out of my field of expertise. I need to call Eli and talk to Damian._ But from what he had understood, Timothy was someone very private and there was a very small chance Damian would know what Isaac was talking about. Those two had a strained relationship at best.

Leaning in, he spoke to Timothy. Not directly to the ear though, because they didn’t have that personal bond and overstepping that boundary would rouse the older man of the half daze he was now in. Which was absolutely the opposite of what he wanted. “You still with me, Mr. Timothy?”

“Tim.”

“Oh, okay, Tim.” Embarrassment flared when he realised he had called this guy _Mr. Timothy_ in his mind since the beginning. “I wanna tell you something more. I know I talk a lot, but this one’s about Damian. You in?” He asked as he went down the small of Timot-Tim’s back. His thumbs met hard knots along the way, almost like Eli when she was off patrol after a night of punching bad guy after bad guy. _Weird, but not that uncommon_.

Those blue eyes opened _wide_ and an eager smile spread. Isaac started speaking “Okay, close your eyes, and imagine after class. It’s sunny, we both passed Math, no biggie. So everything’s fine.” He completely missed how Tim unlocked his phone and started to record him. “And I discover he’s never had bubble tea.” Tim held back a laugh at Isaac’s deadpan, _man this outta be good._ “Never! This is a crime! So I turn up to him, and ‘Buckle up honey, we’re going to have bubble tea! I don’t fucking care if you have aquapony or some bullshit, you’re coming with me and we’re going to get you a bubble tea’. I didn’t really say it like that, honestly, it was more of a ‘You. Me. Bubble tea?’ mumble –‘cuz he has pointy things on his person, and I don’t want to be maimed-, but off we go. I show him this shop on the 3th avenue, the next to the barber shop, they make a mean smoothie… And bubble tea. So we enter, and Damian’s already out of his element. He’s scowling at the menu, trying to decipher whatever ‘toppings’ are, and he _refuses_ to ask me. It’s hilarious. But, you know, he has to get everything perfectly, so he just watches around, see what people get and takes a decision. I’m like ‘alright, you got it figured out, but just wait for the first taste, I wanna see that’, and we order. I have a lemon tea with raspberry bubbles, he gets the same tea but pineapple bubbles _._ Not the greatest ones, but those were vegan, so yeah. We go out of the shop and the fun _really_ starts.”

He took a breath for a dramatic pause. “First, I have to explain to him how to pierce the plastic lid with his straw. He fucking murders that lid, eyes set on that thing like it’s a prey, everything. But before he takes his first sip, I have to admit, I couldn’t pass that opportunity. So, before he takes his first sip, I tell him to take a big one, because sometimes the bubbles have difficulties coming up. Which isn’t really a lie, but knowing his dedication, he’d have to take the biggest sip of all times just because he’s _Damian_.” Tim was smiling openly now, relaxing further and further under Isaac’s ministrations, who’s hands were smoothing the round of his shoulders and going down his arms. “I really regret not taking a video, but he would’ve sniffed the trouble before I could fool him. So he looks at me dead in the eyes and goes ‘ _SLUUUUR-UGH!_ ’ and just _chokes_ on the bubbles that came in his mouth at the speed of light. He went from light brown to absolute red in the span of three seconds, and had already set murder eyes on me even before he could even control his breathing. And I’m desperately trying not to laugh, because if I do, he’ll know that _this_ was the reaction I wanted. And I don’t want to die.” Isaac was laughing openly now, Tim following along with a more sluggish chuckle. “But I’m a bastard, so I just look at him, trying to play it cool, like ‘this shit happens every time, no biggie.’ And I ask him if it tastes good. He looks at me dead in the eyes and went: ” Taking a higher note, Isaac tried to imitate Damian’s voice. “ ‘My throat itches, but the pineapple taste good.’ Completely deadpan. And I lost it.”

Massaging Tim’s neck, he continued. “I apologised the next day, and offered to show him how the technique of ‘pointillé’ works in drawing, but I know the other shoe’s going to drop and he’s going to get back at me. But man, so worth it. Like a 100% would totally do it again.”

He continued the massage in silence, letting the atmosphere come down again, and started raking his nails from the forehead to the end of Tim’s back. Tim had shut his laptop and was laying his upper body on the kitchen table at this point, giving him more access. Isaac smoothed his hands on the shirt, wondering if the older man was getting cold, and heard mumbles coming from Tim’s crossed arms, where his head was laying. Getting closer with the back of the chair slightly digging in his ribs, Isaac murmured, “What did you say? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“… I didn’t know that Damian could sing until today…” was mumbled with more force, Tim not moving from his position.

“Really? He sometimes murmurs Arabic songs when he’s bored. And he said that the song he sang earlier- _I’m not scared of the dark_ , by lil Wayne-, he’d heard it from one of his brothers.”

“…Maybe Dick…was really beautiful… You sing very good together.” Isaac didn’t feel like telling him that _he_ wasn’t the one singing in that moment. “…Wish I could hear that more often…” That said, he was out like a light. Isaac slipped off his hoody to cover Tim after a last stroke on his back, not wanting him to rouse because of the cold. Tim only moved around and settled back without waking up. Isaac caressed the idea of putting the hood up, but considering how jumpy Tim had been, that wasn’t a great idea. Sighing, he took his hands off Tim’s body, observing his slumped form over his laptop, the hole now completely still, as was his colour. He was in a deep sleep, probably without dreams.

And Isaac realised two things as he caressed Tim’s head, putting his hair out of his mouth and nostrils.

One, he had something to suggest to Damian for Tim’s birthday. Eli would be thrilled.

But the second discovery overwhelmed the first one with a wave of guilt and disgust as he made his way up the stairs after switching the lights off. He was a fucking monster who had _no_ right to roam the Earth and interact with people.

He had taken some of Tim’s energy by touching him.

And that was fucking concerning. Yellow was swirling around his fingers now, and he could feel that his energy levels were more filled. No wonder Tim had fallen asleep even with a severe case of self-depreciation and trust issues.

“I’m a bloody freak.”, he murmured, using the words the bullies called him at school. And they were oh so fucking right. He tasted cooper in his mouth, guilt coming crashing down. Clenching his fists, he refrained from punching something –himself, running his fist through his face just to make himself forget his own name- not wanting to wake anyone up. He entered the room with his heart weighing a ton, missing Eli horribly, only wanting to hear her voice and dance his panic away.

Instead, he hid under the covers, bundling up, convinced he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. He didn’t deserve it.

He fell asleep on the interrogation why Eli hadn’t left him where she found him, or even put a bullet in his head if she knew what he was going to become. 

* * *

Jason cracked an eye open to Demon Spawn’s friend going back up the stairs. He was a little bit curious to why the teenager was awake at such an hour, but considering their ‘nightly activities’, being up at this hour too would only make him look suspicious. And Isaac had probably met Replacement in the kitchen, so showing him that the whole gang had woken up the moment he opened the door of his room was the best way to creep him out. And, _surprise on a fucking cherry cake,_ Demon Spawn actually liked him. 

That, and Dick using him as a human blanket, his back pressing against Jason’s front. Very comfortable. Certain that Isaac wasn’t going to die a horrible death tonight, Jason closed his eyes again and surrendered to sleep once again.

Ten minutes later, he woke up to two strange feelings. The first one was the lack of sensation in his left arm. Dick had shifted a few inches away and merely moved his hand to grip Jason’s resting at the base of his throat, his other one circling his own mid-section, in a one armed self-hug. So this sensation was his fault alone, no biggy. But the other one was the one who woke him up completely, alarms going red in his brain. 

A body was resting against his chest.

Not Dick’s, he was sleeping soundly, a few centimetres away for him, but still connected through their interlocked arms. But the space between them was filled. By an unknown body.

Sliding a little to the right, he felt the body take in consistence and shift, adjusting to the new open space. Jason cursed at Dick for not letting any kind of light enter the room, because he couldn’t take any details of what was resting against him. Sighing internally, trying to not wake Dick up and startle the stranger, not wanting them to flee, he dislodged his right arm from Dick’s grip and smoothly brought it nearer his own midsection. Carefully, he skimmed his hand on what he thought was a stomach before withdrawing it, and waited, holding his breath. The body shifted, replacing itself after the touch, and Dick shifted with it. Strangely, he didn’t feel any clothing under his palm, just a presence and warmth emanating from it. And clearly, this presence was also linked to Dick in a way, if the synchronic movements were anything to go by.

Boldly, Jason gripped the ribcage resting on his midsection with all his might, trying to trap whatever was there by pining it against his chest and wrapping his other leg around something that could very be a hip. He couldn’t do much more, the stranger already being too close for comfort and _way too close to Dick_. The plan was to capture them and figure then the hell was going on. Squeezing the spot he had under his hand, he got rewarded by a jerk from the body, the head – _oh, then it has one. Dang in the middle of my chest_ \- thumping loud on his pectoral muscle, as the back arched against his groin, legs going rigid. A squeak resonated in the silence of the room, before Dick jumped up with a loud exclamation. Jason frowned, wondering if the high pitched sound from before came from his boyfriend or from the unknown person he was currently literally groping.

“ _OW_! What the _hell_?!”

Dick dazed a few milliseconds in space, but then made a sharp U-turn and drew a Batarang out of nowhere – _bottom drawer, idiot, I’m no magician-_ , the sharp noise of metal resounding into the room. A shuffle of sheets indicated that Dick was now crouching in front of him, with surely the worst bedhair the world had ever seen. A sigh, and then Dick spoke, the tone exasperated like he was talking to a little child who had too many candies. 

“Jay, I love you. But pinching me is _not_ the loveliest way to wake me up.”

Jason snorted, and felt the body move against him, as if adjusting to the hand on its ribs, and sink further into his warmth. Snapping his mouth shut, he clicked his tongue two times, indicating Dick to turn on the lights. Thankfully, he didn’t question his actions and flipped the bedside lamp’s switch. Jason squinted his eyes at the brightness and turned to Dick, confirming the case of _bedhair all the way_ , before looking down at his hand. At Dick’s gasp, he spoke softly.

“Yea, it wasn’t me.”

“ _Who is that? What is that ?!”_ Dick’s tone got higher, before taking a deep breath and switch to Batmode. Looking at Jason, who confirmed his grip on the body with a nod, he brought a hand to the stranger’s throat and let his finger slide under the chin, to the sternum. The energy –there was no way to describe it any other way, it was pure black energy, who almost looked grey. Energy that seemed trapped in the form of a body, with rays of warmer tones always in movement- jerked, and the legs withdrew to the torso, making it smaller. The head pulled away from Jason’s chest to join on the knees, effectively curling into a ball.

“It pinched me again.” Dick spoke in the stunned silence to watch pure energy move like a human body.

Jason looked at Dick and saw two arms joined by the fingers around his boyfriend’s torso. Without a sound, he tilted his head and pointedly looked down for Dickiebird to follow the movement. The oldest of the Robins almost jerked away at the sight, but he carefully passed a hand on the fingers keeping the arms in place, before nodding towards Jason. Those arms were definitely real and most likely belonged to whatever was snoring in their bed. Who could separate body parts.

Nodding to Dick, he began to carefully move away from the body. He took his leg off the hip and slipped his lower body off the bed, letting his feet rest against the carpet. They waited, holding their breath, to see if the body would move and start attacking them. Nothing. Slowly, his hand moved from its spot on the body. But as soon as he took his hand off the ribs, a pleading sound resounded in the room. The body shifted and sprawled on the bed, legs opening wide to take as much space as possible. Its arms materialised in their normal place, and hearing Dick sigh, they must have come off him to merge with their owner. Those arms flapped and searched the bed, going to the extent to search under the pillows, palms flat on the sheets. So it meant that the body was on its stomach. Another pleading sound came, Jason was now sure that the squeak from earlier was the body’s production and not Dick’s.

“ _What the hell is happening?”_

 _“_ I dunno.”

“Do you know you what that is? _”_

“I dunno.”

“Oh my God, is it _snoring_? _”_

“I dunno, Dickie! Okay?! It’s not twenty questions here! And we’re not outta the woods yet. That thing’s still connected to ou’ mugs.” Jason pointed to both of their hearts, where a ray of grey linked them to the body’s shoulder blades. A pleading sound resonated again as Dick pulled on the string, stretching it thin.

“You think it’s an alien?” Dick’s voice was much calmer now, and he looked rather…interested at the perspective. He should’ve expected that coming from a vigilante who had literally dated an _alien warrior princess_ back in the days. Jason rolled his eyes.

“I think nothin’, Big Wing. I’m just wonderin’ if it can hear us or move around.” To prove his point, the body flopped around again, burying its head in one of the pillow and they could hear a distinct _sniff_ coming from it. It flailed around for several more seconds before settling down again, and Jason took a normal breath, relaxing slightly. He turned to Dick, mouth open to ask if he had his phone with him to take pictures.

Wrong move.

A tug set them tumbling forward, and both vigilantes took a stumbling step towards the bed. The link was a steady black now, thicker than it had been before.

“What the fuck?!” exited Jason’s mouth.

Another tug pulled their torsos, and the vigilantes stopped their course towards the bed by gripping the frame with both hands. The pull remained steady, and Jason could feel how it was getting stronger, gauging their force and reacting to it.

“Okay, that’s not reassuring at all.” Dick’s face was now deadly serious, too many variables screaming _danger_ at them to crack the usual joke. Jason could see how his muscles were straining in the dim light of the room. Another tug, stronger than the previous ones, made him round his back in response, and he definitely heard some vertebrae crack under the pressure. The same plea resonated in the room, a sense of urge to it, and the force of the pull got stronger.

They weren’t going to last.

Dick turned to him, eyebrows furrowed, and Jason _knew_ what he was going to propose.

“We call in the B-man? He’s down in the cave, with a twenty-four hours’ rest arrest coming from Agent A. Baby Bird’s probably in the kitchen, and Baby Bat’s in his room in case our guest needed something. It’s the Birds of Prey’s night to patrol.”

“Hell no.” Because asking B for help would lead them to explain the _why_ Jason was in Dick’s room. And that was _not_ happening. Not if he had anything to say.

“Jay, we have no idea what that is and-” Dick didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the plea coming back angry, chirps and shrills lacing the sound. The link became like steel and Jason felt his ribcage crack as he got pulled forward, his upper body almost crashing on the bedding, his feet still on the carpet. He was bent over the bed’s frame, his nose dangerously close to the body’s ankle. Turning his head to the right, he saw Dick in the same position, but the older vigilante had dived right into the stranger’s right calf, initiating a touch.

And the body sensed it. The room fell silent, and Jason observed with dread the body go impossibly still, the rays swirling on it stopping for a few seconds. A curious click came out, and the body shimmed down to have its knee rest next to Dick’s head. It jolted when the older Robin breathed next to it, the rays in that area going crazy, swirling in all directions. Eager, the body replaced its knee at the exact same place and another jolt went through, this time accompanied with a chirp, resembling a laugh.

“Oh my god, Jay.” Dick’s voice was mesmerised. “I think it’s ticklish.”

“D, Don’t do-“, Too late. To test his theory, the older vigilante smoothed a hand from the body’s calf to its knee and slightly scratched it. The body’s leg jerked away with a chirp, and Jason felt some amusement bubble lazily in his brain. A few seconds later, the leg went back to where it was and relief washed through him when Dick put his hand on it again, only to jerk in surprise at the tickle under his knee.

Dick hadn’t touched him and he was too far away from the body to get any kind of touch.

The body jerked again, and Jason felt something starting to wake up in the back of his brain. It was happy being touched, but it felt feeble and unsatisfied. Confusion was starting to creep its way in too, a sense of incomprehension in why people where with _her_ in _her_ bed, even though they _smelled familiar._ Dick’s hand wrapped around its calf and the entity preened at the warmth coming from his hand, and sleep started to claim the conscience back, thoughts becoming more sluggish.

 _Oh crap._ There was only one person who needed warmth to survive an injury, and Jason just _knew_ she hadn’t completely healed since yesterday. Made sense she would search for it, even though this form was way beyond everything he had expected. Turning his attention to Dick, he saw him curling his fingers gently, before raking his nails on the sensible skin of the body’s thigh. Pleasure shot through Jason’s leg, and the body turned away from Dick, ending on its - _her-_ right side. The conscience was awoken again at the new sensation and now the loss of touch, and she was getting a little pissed by it.

Reaching out, Jason grabbed Dick’s arm midway– _Silence, it was Silence in their bed-_ , wrestling him off the bed before he could wake her even more.

“Cut it out, Dickie. She’s wakin’ up.” He murmured in Dick’s ear, pulling him securely against his chest with an arm across his front. Both waited, observing how the body – _Silence-_ settled in the middle of the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest, black arms crossed over it and legs crushing it between her thighs. She looked damn tiny in this position, and he could hear her miss the warmth she was in before all this shit show started.

“ _She?”_ Dick whispered in the silence of the room, careful not to rouse her. They had very little time before the links would try to throw them on her again.

“I told ya abou’ the mind link, no? With Silence.” Jason answered in the same tone, letting his hold relax, releasing Dick’s wrist. 

“Mind link you failed to mention in your report tonight, but yeah. That’s her? But you said she was human. Like with flesh and everything. Not black energy…” He murmured, intrigued.

“I also told ya why she was sittin’ on my lap like it was a throne.”

_It **is** a throne. _

The thought was sluggish at best, but he definitely felt the amusement in her tone. He frowned to the body and Dick arched an eyebrow in question. “She’s bein’ a dick. Anyhow, she needed warmth because of her injury and asked me for it.” He carried on, looking sideways into Dick’s eyes, seeing mentally him connect the dots.

“So you think she’s here to, what, recharge?”

“Broken spine, Dickiebird. A hug’s not gonna do much for her, and it was short, Replacement barged in in the middle of it. I’m surprised she didn’t hunt one of us down.” _Or anyone in this damn city. Why us?_ Jason raised a mental barrier to avoid her catching wind of his interrogations, but he was already making a list of questions to ask her when they caught her. But Dick was right, the form she was in raised questions.

A whine broke their discussion short, and they definitely felt the link tighten. Unwinding his arm around Dick’s midsection, he rested his left hand on his boyfriend’s hips, before leaving a kiss on the nape of his neck. “What do ya suggest we do? We call in the big ol’ daddy –I am _completely_ against that and will fight you to death if you decide to-, or we cuddle her tonight and chase her down next patrol to get our answers? Besides, I owe her, and big time.” He murmured.

Dick’s eyes _lit_ at the mention of cuddles, and Jason felt a pang of sadness at the clear depravation Dick was feeling. He knew he had issues about physical affection outside sex and Dick never said anything-always the Golden boy- but Jason knew something was missing sometimes. Dick’s expression darkened, and he could see the reminiscence of _Batman_ showing, calculating and planning for their next seven moves.

“You’ll be able to pinpoint her location with the mind link…” He was full on muttering. Jason slapped a hand across his mouth, effectively silencing him.

“You wanna say that even louder? Tell your plan with someone you don’t know if she’s capable of hearin' 'nd the other one connected to her mentally in the room, why wouldn’t you? How did you survive this long, Dickybird?”

Dick licked his palm in response, and Jason refrained the urge to swat him upside the head. Without another word, he wrapped his hand around Jason’s wrist and tugged him to the bed, a question in his eyes. Grunting in response, the second Robin crawled on the covers and made his way to Silence resting on his side of the bed. Pushing her towards the centre, he felt a pang of joy as Dick accommodated on his side to welcome them both in his embrace. From whom that joy came from, he couldn’t determine. And honestly, he didn’t care. Wrapping an arm around Silence’s waist, he made her face Dick and her back rest against on own front. The link pulled him flush against her, and he was way past his initial surprise _of finding someone else in their bed_ to be embarrassed as his right leg slipped between hers and his face ended up niched in her neck. She smelled good for an entity of energy, if that even existed.

Dick spoke in the silence of the room, amused. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s a _her_. I can definitely feel boobs.” His hand patted Silence’s flank, feeling the curve but could also count the ribs, alarmingly close under the skin. She was probably underfed or her metabolism was a bitch. Propped on an elbow, he watched Silence’s arms unwind from around herself to slip around his ribs and find a grip on his back. And the weight sent him months back, with his weird dream before he got sleep paralysis for the first time.

“Little Wing.” He called, the realisation hitting him.

“…Whut?” Dick rose an eyebrow at the sleepy tone. Falling asleep with a potential danger in their bed was a _no_ all around their training, and it was so ingrained in their subconscious that he couldn’t falling asleep of his own will-

_Oh fuck._

“She’s draining you, baby. You’re her power source.”, he murmured, his hand leaving Silence’s side to rack his nails on Jason’s scalp, to rouse him of his slumber. Blue-green eyes blinked several time, but he could see Jason had already lost the battle the moment he stepped a foot in the bed.

“…Uhm…Shit…Waddiya wanna tell me? Say it before I lose it, Dickiebird.” Got murmured around her neck, Jason’s eyes piercing him. But he didn’t seem scared to go unconscious, at the mercy of a literal power hungry vampire. Sighing slightly at the obvious show of trust –those getting more numerous as the days passed, but Dick couldn’t believe it, not even after two years of wondering how he got so lucky- he thumbed at Jason’s jaw, and leaned above Silence to kiss his lover on the cheek.

“I think it’s not the first time she’s been attached to one of us. To me at least.” He whispered on the piece of skin he was kissing and he heard the second Robin laugh a little. Jason squeezed the energy under his hands and Dick felt Silence’s hands tighten on his back in retaliation.

“You piece of shit already playin’ favorite…”, Jason murmured to her, before biting down _hard_ on the shoulder in front of him. A jolt went through her and Dick watched one of her hand leave him to grip Jason’s upper thigh, planting what could be nails if they weren’t pure energy in the sensitive flesh, making Jason groan. It was clearly a punishment and Dick could feel Jason rouse to the challenge.

But before a full on brawl could begin between the two, Silence began to stroke Jason’s thigh almost… _tenderly_ and adjusted her grip on Dick’s side. The jaw around her shoulder went slack, but the contact stayed and Jason blinked hard, murmuring “I love you, Dickhead.” with some effort, the green receding to leave blue in those irises. The next moment, he was out like a light, body going completely pliant. And Dick was left with a power house in their bed, level of danger unknown and his lover unconscious because of it.

Nothing to worry about really, easy peasy lemon squezzy.

Settling in more comfortably, he observed the entity resting against his chest. Cradling her head in his palm, he felt spikes of hair like she had a buzz cut, which, considering her choice of masks, was perfectly understandable. Taking her face in both of his palms, he committed her features to memory through touch, imprinting the angle of her nose, the fact that she had literal fangs in lieu of canines and he wouldn’t be surprised if she had venom pouches somewhere around those pointy weapons. His palms traced around her arms, taking into account that she was all in lean muscles and that he couldn’t feel any scars on her skin. Maybe it was because of her current form or the fact that she had an insane healing factor.

But he was really curious on why she was in Gotham. If she was a meta who moved here, or a local who thought enough was enough and took the matter in her hands even if it meant to run into the Batclan. If she had a personal vendetta against someone in Gotham. Raking his nails on her neck, he observed how she settled back on his chest, almost squishing her face on his pectoral to give him more access. Her right hand stayed on Jason’s thigh, continuing its stroking while her left gripped his ribcage in rhythm with the stroking on her neck.

She nuzzled her nose against his stomach and the move made him vividly see Eli.

He had seen Eli nuzzle in the neck of her sweater –well, it was his _originally_ , but she had claimed it, so there was little hope he would one day have it back- when she wasn’t speaking during the meeting. Half her face buried in it, clearly inhaling the scent on the sweater, battling away sleep in order to do her job. He had snapped a picture of her looking completely out of it, and was waiting for Jason to be awake to show it to him. Even the second Robin had admitted that he was curious of what she looked like out of her horribly mismatched pj’s. Pj’s that were probably Isaac’s normal clothing the way her brother sometimes sported the same shirts they had seen on her the night before. It made him question what kind of childhood both of them had lived, to be clingy to one another in such a way. 

Eli had questioned all witnesses of Red Hood’s ‘prevention crimes’ –all of them going from the beating to full-on murder- that she could find. Even the ones that had tried to hide from her. The meeting had been weird, because she had convinced them that Hood wasn’t to be taken down, even if their moral compass was screaming at them for encouraging murder to prevent more violence and most of the officers present agreed. Which in the police force was more of a miracle than anything else, but Eli had also warned them that not everyone would be happy with their decision. But she had said she didn’t have any lead on how to find or ambush Hood, and Dick knowing where Jason was and how he worked, had sighed in relief. But directly after the meeting, she had dragged Kogane –nice piece of ass that one, all wrapped in top notch reflexes and strategy- to the side to give him a flash drive, a victorious smile on her lips.

Dick had an inkling that they weren’t talking about finding Santa Klaus in his underwear. The question Kogane had asked about Hood’s lover had rang bells _loud_ in his brain and by Eli’s smile, she knew way more than she let on. So what was her angle? And more importantly, what did she know and _how?_

And cherry on the cake of this whole mess, the Batgang was a family of detectives. So they wouldn’t be attracted to dumb people, that was for sure, and Eli had rung the gong to start the hunt the moment she said she was still on Hood’s tail, adding with a smile that it maybe meant she was on other superheroes’ asses. She had declared war and Dick was buzzing with energy to take on her offer. Because even if she was hunting them down, her heart was in the right place. She deserved a playmate. Playmate _s_ even.

And damn if that wasn’t hot. Now he _really_ wanted to date her, or at least get a piece of that ass, and drag Jason into this, but he had to decide what to do next. Would he try to date her and continue to visit her at night as someone else and risk her discovering her identity through his voice –he’s not dumb enough not to know that blind people have a better hearing than most and can distinguish differences between voices. Even though he already screwed that up by breaking and entering the first time, but one could still hope and never do it again.- And Jason was still considered dead. _Uhm…That needed some discussion and plan of action._

Sighing, Dick laid back and picked up his phone. Slipping his earphones in, he opened the recording app. Soon, the voices came flooding in.

 _“Hood’s been all over the city, and you can’t tell me he hasn’t been a busy bee. But the drug cartels have been also exploding and I’m not certain I can sleep with that.”_ The voice of Gregor, Arkham Department.

“ _The drugs and Hood are related, we know that.”_ Eli’s voice rang clearly, “ _He took over the gangs by removing all lieutenants and blackmailing their bosses, shooting right and left who got in his way. But now, he’s not that trigger happy. Considering the fact that several kids said a man wearing a red helmet scared the bejesus out of them, warning them to not touch drugs again or he would come for their asses and that he warned his goons to never distribute any kind of drug to a kid, going from zero to twenty-one years old, or else, Red Hood’s profile is not one of a socio- or psychopath yearning for control and power. So it’s-”_

 _“Not trigger happy? Are ya kiddin’ me?! We found four people bleedin’ on the pavement this mornin’ in front of the station!”_ The boom of an angry voice, even though the anger was misplaced.

Silence for several seconds.

“ _Kogane, those the guys you were talking about?”_ Eli, serious.

“ _Yeah, and we got the report from the hospital. Someone else.”_ Kogane’s voice rang clear, leaning on the cold side.

“ _You got your answer, Finn. Hood’s not behind those guys’ beat down. I think that they don’t even belong to his gangs, but for us to know that, they should be able to talk. Criminal lord 101: if Hood had targeted them, he would’ve killed all but one, to leave one able to tell the story and spook others. Besides, if they were Hood’s target, we would’ve found something on child abuse or prostitution, anything around misuse of people and trauma. Like I said, he’s not trigger happy anymore and his targets have a specific profile, except for the rebellious ones who tried to overthrow him popping up the river from time to time.”_

 _“So what’s the endgame then? He’s not all bad, we get that, the dropping criminal rate tells us that much. But what do we want with him?”_ Dick had asked that question and he vividly remembered how Eli had smiled, dangerous and excited. He really regretted not taking a picture to capture the moment. But before she could open her mouth, Noah had stepped in, speaking for the first time since the actual beginning of the meeting, making everyone remember who was _normally_ the one making decisions.

“ _A: we want to keep an eye on him and know if something is going down, like the gang war we are in. Having some preparation and being able to take the civilians to safety would have been way easier and less messy if we got a warning beforehand. B: know who the hell that guy is. Blackmail or any kind of intel to know the moment he goes rogue and we can take him down.”_

 _“Heh, like they say: ‘If you want peace, prepare for war.’ So we going to infiltrate the organisation or what? Taking it down would only result in more chaos and we don’t need that. Would only attract the worse kind of human breed.”_ A brawl, even though the woman who had spoken had been vibrating on her chair, already thinking about the next steps.

“ _We’re working on it.”_ And the moment Eli had said that, Dick had clearly gotten the impression she another idea in mind then only surveillance. A challenge. “ _But be certain that it won’t easy, and Hood’s no idiot. Looking at his crime scenes and talking to the witnesses, they describe an intelligent man, with a tactic mind and clearly military training. He’s a soldier but climbed the stairs to be a commander.”_

 _“And the theory that he would affiliated to the Batfam?”_ Kogane had spoken softly, and Dick had seen a flick of a smirk.

“ _Ouff, hard question.”_ Eli scoffing in amusement, leaning with both hands on the table, her glasses pointed down. _“I moved here three months ago, so I can’t say anything about it. He’s been in town for more than two years now, but except for power over the drug cartels, I don’t know why he’s here. What I do know however, is that they have been run-in between the Batgang and Hood. And he wears a red bat on his chest, so I think the message might be clear. But to go to the extent to say that they work together, it’s hard to say. If there have been any updates on his gear, Bats barging in his fights and picking his hurt ass up to patch it up, then I would say yes. But there has been no sign of this lately. Or not that we could pick up on.”_

Noah had taken up the conversation without a hitch. _“And lastly, this operation will be top secret. I don’t care what excuse you come up with to make up for your absence at home or at work, you will **not** speak about this to anyone. Moles are everywhere and the last thing we need is this operation being targeted because we spoke a bit too loudly. You in body bags is not my goal. We selected you because you are best at your job and also because you are clean –in a moral sense- so I know your hearts are in the right place.” _Dick had stopped a flinch from coming up, his conscience laughing openly at him. Technically, he was a mole, and if anything was to go down about Red Hood, you could bet your ass he was going to report it or at least warn Jason about it. He was compromised.

 _“Secret operation with very little chance of success? Sign us in, Commissar.”_ Mai had stood up, serious despite her line of sarcasm.

“ _Yeay Team. I’ll make us matching hats and pom-poms.”_ Eli was clearly back being a little shit at this point, pulling out a blowing whistle to ‘celebrate’.

Dick closed the recording and looked at the ceiling, lost in thoughts. Who the hell was Eli? She was a sister, but said that she met Isaac when he was four, which meant she had to be eighteen at the time. It could be plausible that Isaac was her child, that she had at fourteen, except for the fact that they didn’t look like each other _at all._ They had moved to the USA ten years ago from Europe, but there was no record of their existence before their move. No birth certificate, no visa application, or even something as dumb as a driving license. Which… in case of Eli, would be explicable, except if she lost her sight in an accident. But she was working as a profilist and behavioural specialist, what - _normally-_ needed people who could _observe_. Like with their eyes. Observe how people reacted when getting a news, under stress, observe crime scenes and give a prognostic on the offender’s intelligence level, the method.

And most of that was based on sight alone. But speaking to her co-workers- Kogane mainly, after the meeting- he discovered that in some cases they filled in for her failing eyes. They described photos to her, giving a run-down of the suspect’s physical appearance, or how one had behaved during an interrogation Eli wasn’t in. But except for that, they never bugged in her work, which could raise questions if she wasn’t that _damn good_ at it and cops decided to glide over that fact. Honestly, they could use all the help they could find in the police force. 

The whole board had expressed reservations when they discovered that Eli –nicknamed ‘The Blind Hobbit’ by the others behind her back, she found it hilarious- was going to be the reference profilist for this serious case. But Noah had been adamant for her to take the job, and gave them her results since she had been in Gotham’s police force. She wasn’t near the 100% success, but her investigations and interrogation lead almost every time to the truth. And she clearly liked her job, as Dick had seen on her face when she nailed a sex offender during a recorded interrogation Noah showed while they waited for her. The smile of victory and righteous anger as she crouched down to the victim –a little boy, entrusted to this woman because his parents had both to work to make ends meet- and explained to him that the _bad nanny_ wasn’t going to come back with him at home and that anytime something weird would happen with his head, where he would remember or feel scared, that he should not fear to give Eli a phone call. Eli ended proposing her brother as a fill-in for nights where no one would be able to come. Straight promoted him babysitter without his consent.

She was ‘merkwürdig’ in lieu of another word in the English language. You could only remark her because of how she stood out, not in a positive nor a negative way. And how in the nine Hells did she manage to stay under the radar for all these years? A blind investigator was not exactly _common._ Especially in the police force. Someone should already have done a background check on her and find it odd to find no previous information on her life. Next thing after coffee tomorrow would to search every trace of an _Elilian Merounem_ \- if that was even her name- or of a blind police worker around the globe.

 _A person with no past is the main ingredient for the recipe of disaster,_ Dick thought as he looked down to Silence still resting on his chest, arm wrapped around his right side. _Like you, **Spiderdwarf**._ Seriously, Jason’s nickname was on the verge of becoming famous in the Batfam. Mainly because when you give something silly names, it’s pretty hard to be afraid of it afterwards. Even though that method’s not really a good thing. Take the hurricanes or tornados for example…. Calling it Desmond made it feel pretty harmless, but consider the people not leaving their homes because they thought it _wouldn’t be so bad_ _with such a name._ That completely backfired, didn’t it?

But back to Silence. Giving her a nickname would make her something familiar and less threatening. But they still had to find out what exactly could she do.

Dick let his hands travel unconsciously from the back of her neck to her shoulder blades and felt her move, dislodging his hands out of the zone. His curiosity picked, he repeated the process, very attentive to her reaction this time. She shrugged him off. A warning growl rang in the room as he was about to do it again. _Cujo much?_ Withdrawing his hands from the zone, he frowned at that new discovery. Clearly, she didn’t like to be touched in there. Maybe because it was a blind spot?

But she didn’t react when he counted her vertebrae, starting from the neck to the coccyx. Then it was specific to her shoulder blades. Looking over her, he visually checked on Jason. And proceeded to question everything he knew.

Jason was cuddling – _cuddling! –_ Silence, his arms locked around her chest, pulling her flush against him. Her hand was still stroking his thigh, and looking up, the second Robin was hiding his face in her neck. But it was the paleness around his head that alarmed Dick. Growing anxious, he grabbed Jason’s hair and pulled it, dragging his head out of his hiding place and looked for signs of distress. Jason was pale and clearly unconscious. The bags under his eyes were darker than before, he looked utterly exhausted. Which for a sleeping man wasn’t a good look. Quite the opposite in fact, if Dick had anything to say about beauty sleep.

Silence moved around when she felt that Jason was missing from his spot, thumping her head on the pillow but not moving away from them. Looking at the clock on the nightstand, Dick saw that it had been an hour since Jason had fallen asleep and his condition was worsening. He wasn’t asleep anymore, he was clearly unconscious.

She was literally sucking him dry.

Anger rose in his core at the danger she was being to Jason, by dragging him into her mess. She was going to kill him if that continued at the same pace.

Pulling Jason by the hair, he laid his head on the pillow away from Silence’s form, and slowly began to unwrap him from the _parasite_ the glowing vigilante was being. If you could call her a vigilante, they still didn’t know what her motive was. 

A warning growl resonated in the room, but Dick was having none of it. Keeping Silence against his chest, he pushed Jason with a foot on his hip. The second Robin rolled on his back with a sigh, successfully disentangling himself, his left arm being now the only thing connecting him to the tiny menace. A black link immediately made the contact between the two, starting from her shoulder blades to end in the middle of Jason’s chest. A whine escaped her and Dick felt how one of her arm moved to open.

“Oh hell no. You’re not going anywhere, you damn danger.” he squeezed tighter. The response was immediate. She went pliant, all muscles relaxed.

But he didn’t fall for it. Not when her mouth was now open and her fangs _very near_ his pectoral muscle. Something wet dragged itself on his skin and _Jesus, Mary, Joseph_ it was her tongue.

A second whine escaped her, and her legs tensed, moving to brace her feet on his hips. Dread rolled in his stomach, because if she threw him off, he wouldn’t be able to prevent her from having her way with a very unconscious Jason. He secured his grip on her neck, bracing a hand on her skull, determined to take her down with him if she sent him flying. Her hands tightened on his ribs, and he almost snorted at the ridicule it was.

Just two persons well-versed in the art of killing pointing out to each other how easy it would be to destroy the other one while cuddling. Controversy was stinking up the room and everything was right in the world. Just peachy.

A tap started on his back, the rhythm erratic. _Two taps, a long pause….Four taps...a pause again…_

_W.H.E.R.E._

He didn’t resist the urge to raise an eyebrow in consternation: a vigilante who knew sign language _and_ Morse code? Where had she been trained, honestly? It resembled really to the training they all had undergone in the Batgang.

“Damn, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he whispered fondly, remembering the day he spotted Jason sitting on the couch, his reading glasses on, engrossed in a book Dick wouldn’t dream of being able to pronounce the name. Loudly, he continued “I don’t really understand your question… Don’t you know where you are when you’re like… _this?”_ he refrained of gesturing to her entirely, because realising her still wasn’t an option right now.

_A.M….W.I.T.H…Y.O.U._

_“_ You are, yeah...Do you know who I am?”

_M.A.T.E…O.F….R.E.D…M.A.T.E._

_mate of red mate?_ That was a big can of worm who got opened just now.

“Mate, huh. This why you’re mentally connected to Red Hood? Like you know what’s going on in that dead brain of his?”

_W.H.Y…...Y.O.U…J.E.A.L.O.U.S?_

_“_ Little Wing’s right, you really are a piece of shit.”

_T.H.A.N.K.S_

Silence -metaphorically, not the one in his arms- made its way in the conversation, as Dick thought over their interaction. She could hear them then, she wasn’t deaf. So the ASL during nightly excursion could be more of a choice than a necessity. Except if she was mute.

_R.E.D?_

“Why should I answer you, honestly? You’re a danger.”

_R.E.D?_

“We don’t know anything about you. Hell, you could be an alien for all I know. Not that aliens are bad, but we already have more than enough in spangly suits than we need.”

_R.E.D?_

“Well I mean, you kinda saved his life several times now, but now that I know you’re attached to him _dependently_ speaking, I think it was more for your ass than anything else. Are you even human?”

_R.E.D?_

_“_ Hood forgot to mention you were stubborn.”

_R.E.D._

Settling on his back, Dick pulled Silence on top of him, wrapping his arms around her neck in a false sense of comfort. If she moved just a hair in Jason’s direction, a broken neck would the consequence. “Nope, no infos if you don’t cut your connection with him. I like my man warm and breathing.”

Her hands tightened around his ribcage once again, but the threat got very real when he felt her teeth just above his collarbone. A rip in the throat and it would be the end. He braced himself to be able to push her away before she could do any damage, and he could feel how her feet parted on either side of his legs to have an advantage against his height.

Jason snorted in his sleep quite ungracefully, breaking the tension and making her head swivel to the sound. The teeth on his vein disappeared in the movement, making the _real_ threat disappear. He took the opportunity and threw her off, feet hitting her ribcage and a hand in the larynx, making her loose her grip on him. He grabbed her by the neck when she didn’t react and threw her back on the mattress, this time without him under, preferring to wrap his hand around her throat and sit on her to immobilise her.

Playtime was over.

“I won’t repeat myself twice. You cut the connection _now_ or I will find a way to hurt you in this form.” 

“I won’t repeat myself twice. You cut the connection _now_ or I will find a way to hurt you in this form.” 

No reaction, except for a soft sigh when he tightened his grip to get the message across. Several seconds later, her hands wrapped around his and her middle finger started tapping.

_M.A.K.E…M.E._

Followed by a crunching grip for a second, before she released his hands and made herself at home under him. Dick was flabbergasted, I mean, she wasn’t even coughing from the hit to the throat!

_She let him do that._

Clearly, the shoot first ask questions later was not working. But you never were a Robin if you thought it was the best course of actions, and she put herself at disadvantage even when she thought he wasn’t a threat. Too bad for her, he wasn’t going to feel pity. He lowered the pitch of his voice and levelled tranquilly with her. The angry and worried boyfriend took a backseat and let Nightwing completely in the forefront. Nightwing was now the one who played with the Batarang, raking it against the headboard.

“You’re not deaf. That: I know. So I could really well turn on an album of very bad French rap, and let you rot. Superpowers means superhearing usually, and you may be a freak in that department, but some rules apply for everyone.”

The threat was the worst he came up with in the history of threats but the shudder that went through Silence’s body said it all. Her finger went on his wrist again to tap, this time a question.

_W.H.O…A.R.E…Y.O.U?_

“I thought you knew who I was.” If she didn’t, she was about to discover it. “You recognised Red.”

_R.E.D…I.S…R.E.D._

_Y.O.U…G.R.E.Y….T.H.E.N…B.L.U.E…_

_W.H.O…A.R.E…Y.O.U?_

_Grey?_ Laughing softly, Dick tightened his grip on her throat. “You’re not the one asking questions here, remember? _You_ barged into my home. So who are _you?”_

Silence clicked her tongue once and stopped moving. If not for the rays of energy and her warmth under him, he wouldn’t know she was there. And she stayed like that, letting Dick grow more and more confused.

 _The fuck she doin’?_ sounded very Jason-like, but in two years of a steady relationship, he kinda rubbed off on Dick.

Thirty seconds. A minute. Three. Five.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Mind explaining the hell you’re doing? Launching your career as a caterpillar?”

A laugh went through, her muscles clenching in a snort, but no sound escaped. His eyebrow was making now itself at home on his hairline. She clearly was playing with him, in a non-rational way. But well, you either were not completely rational or too rational to be able work in the vigilante business.

Three minutes went away again, and she stayed stubbornly quiet.

_Quiet…. Oooh, I get it now._

“You should really work on your jokes, _Silence._ This one was horrible.” He murmured, a smile spreading unwillingly at her chirp of joy. She made a kissing noise and finger guns poked his chest in mock. If she had eyebrows in this form, he was certain she would’ve wiggled them.

“What’s your angle here?” Not that he never enjoyed a bad pun, but she made it to a sleep-deprived, confused and worried vigilante who had his hand on her throat. _Get your priorities straight, seriously._ The same click answered him, and he felt her moving. Grasping loosely his wrist, she kept his hand here when she started to straighten. He got the message, seeing that she let him keep the tactical advantage, and moved off her hips to let her sit. He sat on her knees instead. The annoyed huff told everything he needed to know, as she turned her ear to listen to Jason breathe.

“You didn’t answer the questions, so you brought this upon yourself.”

_Y.O.U…N.E.I.T.H.E.R_

“I started the interrogation. I have priority.”

_F.I.V.E_

“We’re behaving like five years old? Absolutely. Especially now that I figured you cut your connection with Red the moment he lost consciousness and that I woke you up. I like you.”

Her head snapped back to him, mouth opened in a O shape in surprise. Her hand on his wrist tightened in a silent question.

“A-ha-ha, I’m not telling you how I know it. My question is, are you using me as a power source now?”

She only nodded, but brought her index and thumb closer together, making a small space between them.

“Why only a little? You took a big bite from Red.”

Silence only licked her lips, before tapping on his wrist with a big smile, sharp teeth and all on display. He couldn’t help but to find the curve cheeky. 

_D.E.S.S.E.R.T._

“You’re gross.”

Another mock kiss- _I…K.N.O.W.-_ , but he didn’t miss how her other hand wrapped around Jason’s wrist to check for a pulse now that he didn’t see her as an immediate threat. The sigh of relief that escaped her didn’t fall into deaf ears.

“You like him, don’t you?”

She tilted her head to the left at that, the movement so birdlike that it reminded him. She wasn’t human, and ‘danger’ could very much be her middle name. She wasn’t a friend, and only a step away from being an enemy. But that could be changed if they knew where she stood with them. Her silence –no pun intended, no scratch that, Dick was the god of puns so intended _all the dam way-_ pushed him to clarify.

“You care for him. You want to protect him. No?” an angry huff escaped through her nose at that, and Jason whined slightly before she released his wrist like it burned her. She turned to Dick and he could see her lips pinched in a fine white line.

_R.E.D….T.O.O…C.A.R.E.L.E.S.S…_

_So maybe you being protective of Hood is a good thing. We got something on you at least._ Brownie points for her to be interested in Hood’s safety. Maybe they could have some common ground.

“He does his job. Like I do mine. Like you do yours when we go out in the night.” _Even though I would be **very** interested to know why you’re out. Not of the closet of course. God that was bad, I am so tired. _

_I…A.M…N.O.T….H.U.M.A.N….H.E…I.S._

_M.O.R.E…S.Q.U.I.S.H.Y_

“He’s seen worse, don’t worry.” The whole resurrection shebang floated in his mind for a second, but his attention turned to Jason when he moved around. Dick knew this routine. Jason was checking his surroundings in his sleep to prevent from being surprised or be prepared for anything harmful the moment he opened his eyes. The number of times they woke up to a villain waiting for them to crack an eye open to beat them up into unconsciousness again were higher then he truly liked. 

Silence turned too, but her other hand slipped around Dick’s neck and he felt her middle finger tapping something. Something he didn’t have time to translate at the moment, because he let her lean in and press her forehead against his, the hand on his wrist tapping _S.O.R.R.Y_ in a hurry.

And with that, she disappeared.

“Wada I miss?” came croaky from Jason. Dick turned to him, grabbing his hand. A smile graced his lips when he saw that the second Robin looked mostly okay.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie, we both agree on that.”

“How long was I out?!”

**_I…C.A.R.E…A.B.O.U.T…Y.O.U….T.O.O_ **

* * *

The morning-well the continuation of the morning- found Isaac watching Tim sleep. In the kitchen. With Tim wearing Isaac’s sweatshirt.

Damian rubbed his eyes in an attempt to confirm what he was seeing, because Drake, as in Drake the fucking genius of the family, Timothy the CEO and Red Robin, Tim the _sleep is for the weak or the dead¸_ was sleeping what looked like a deep sleep, and _smiling._

And Isaac was worryingly watching him, if his bitten nails had anything to say about it.

“Since when is he sleeping?” 

The taller boy startled, and stayed a few seconds in the parody of a fish, opening and closing his mouth several times. He settled his eyes on Damian and he flushed red when he saw him.

“ _What?_ ”

Damian didn’t think Isaac was that slow in the morning. If it took him ten minutes to answer a simple question at 8 in the morning, then what was he able to do under pressure?

“Ah- Nothing. I-“Isaac floundered, and quickly stood up, uneasiness written all over his face. He grabbed Drake’s wrist, and to Damian’s astonishment, the CEO didn’t even move a muscle and let Isaac feel for a pulse. The current Robin watched in amazement as his friend checked the dilatation of his –adopted- brother pupils’, as if he feared a concussion or something in the same taste.

Red Robin never twitched, continuing to snore happily on the table, snuggling even in Isaac’s palms, thing Damian had never seen Drake do, unless completely sleep-deprived and with his lovers. Sometimes the two conditions combined.

His examination apparently over, Isaac marched to the door and ended face-to-face with a _very_ curious Damian. A stare down began, well it was more of a _will you look me in the eyes so that I can intimidate you, please?_ since Isaac refused to look anywhere near Damian’s face. He tried to bypass Damian, but the fifth Robin followed him, making them both look like the awkward dance in the street when the other person is coming towards you and both of you don’t know where to go. Except that dance in kitchen was very well intended on one side.

Isaac seemed torn between annoyed that Damian was blocking his escape route or fond because the Robin looked adorable while shuffling from side to side with his hair in complete disarray.

“Why are you worried about Drake, Merounem?” Damian refrained from making physical contact, because he knew it wasn’t something Isaac was very adept of -with some exceptions, his sister being a big one- but kept it as a mean to an end if Isaac wouldn’t answer.

“I-“ Isaac took a deep breath, and clenched his fists. Something near disgust flashed across his face before sadness settled in. “Damian, I need to go.”

It wasn’t a request. The tone was hard, and Damian actually recoiled from the harshness Isaac’s voice had. He had never heard it before.

Didn’t mean it was going to stop him from asking.

“You can leave after you answered me. Why is Drake asleep on the kitchen table so worrying for you?”

Actually, it was starting to worry him too, because Drake and sleeping never belonged together in the same sentence, and the deepest he had seen the former Robin asleep, it was because of pain meds when his immunity system failed for the second time.

“Damian, I _need to go._ ” And anger shimmered in Isaac’s body language, like a fire gaining in intensity. For someone as level-headed as Isaac, it was something if he got angry.

But the moment he was about to push further, only to see if Isaac would snap, the tallest phone rang. Moment he absolutely and completely used at his advantage to bypass Damian and reach for it, answering with a sigh of relief.

“ ’Li.”

Damian was near enough to hear the whole conversation.

“ _I sense a perturbation in the force, padawan Squirrel. Mind telling me what’s going on?”_

“Do you have to work today or not, ’Li? ‘Cause I need to come home, like _pronto._ ”

“ _What happened?”_

“Timothy, you know: the owl? Well he fell asleep. After I gave him a massage.”

Damian didn’t quite see in what that was a bad thing, and apparently so did Eli.

_“Squirrel, that’s normal. What you did was just to take out all the excessive stress and energy that kept him from sleeping. He’s replenishing that right now by literally sleeping it off, and he’ll be as good as new. No worries.”_

“Still- I need to go home. That’s too fast for me, I’m not used to it.”

 _“You talked to Damian yet? ‘Cause you’ll make him feel like you don’t want him if all you say is-“_ and she took an exaggerated deep voice “ ‘ _I gotta go home’ “_

And Damian admitted –deep, deep, _deep_ down- in himself, that it would hurt a bit if Isaac left without explanation. And the look Isaac sent him, clearly knowing he was snooping on his conversation, told him he could already see the effect of his reaction on him. _Fucking colors and their fucking signification._

“You’re right, I’ll talk to him. But we need to discuss what happened ‘Li, and _seriously_ discuss it.”

“ _I know Squirrel, I know.”_

With that, the line went dead. 

And before he could blink, Damian was engulfed in a hug, with Isaac crushing him against his broader frame. “Sorry.” Silence followed, as if Isaac didn’t know what to say next. “I-, I’m sorry for my behaviour, but I gotta go back to familiar grounds.” Isaac buried his face in Damian’s collarbone, tickling him with his lashes. “Your dog is awesome, by the way. Eli would love him.”

Damian had half the mind of answering the hug, and took the chance to bury his nose in Isaac’s neck, scenting him.

“Titus.” He sighed, before going back to the previous conversation. “Like you said to your sister _¸ we need to talk about it_ , Merounem. And we will discuss the fact that you freaked out because of Drake _sleeping_.” He felt Isaac tense in his arms, but he wasn’t finished. “But I guess I can let you go back to your place, because you have the Philosophy class to prepare.” At Isaac’s groan, he couldn’t help but feel a sharp smile grace his lips. “Do you need a ride?”

“Nahh,” Isaac waved his hand around Damian as they released each other, “I’ll take the bus, like the peon I am.” And smiled gratefully at Damian, one of his hand resting on his shoulder as he slipped on his shoes. Grabbing his backpack, he leaned in a second time, butted his head against Damian’s in a non-spoken apology and muttered in his shoulder. “I really like your hugs. Can we greet like that, instead of the waving?”

The moment passed before Damian could respond and a jacket later, Isaac was out the door.

And Damian had no idea what happened.

“Weird mornin’, Demon Spawn?” Jason said as he turned around to see the whole family cramped in the stairs. _Eavesdropping bastards._ Damian couldn’t even feel offended, because he had done the same to Isaac. He was no hypocrite.

“Your face is weird, Todd.”

“You got any better comebacks than that?” Todd came closer, and Damian noticed that he looked worse than yesterday before he went to bed. The bags under his eyes had multiplied and his complexion was paler than normal. Surprisingly too, the second Robin was already dressed, as if shocking Father by running around half naked wasn’t one of his favourite activities anymore. “And I’m not weird, your little friend is. How come we haven’t done a bit ‘f snoopin’ around already? Aside from Dickybird getting’ his ass handed ta him by scary big sis.”

“And that is exactly why we won’t do it. _Because_ it’s also Eli’s apartment and that she works for the police.” Grayson supplied, a small smile on his lips. Not a fond smile, no, darker. A challenge.

“Dick, Dicky, Diddoo. If she’s a copper, why the fuck we still twiddling our thumbs here?”

If possible, the smile Grayson –no, Nightwing- sported, became even more dangerous. “Because she suspects a connection between Detective Grayson and the Batfamily.”

“How?” Todd’s tone was laced with something resembling wonder, if Damian wasn’t so sure that designated zombie of the family was incapable of anything besides lust and rage.

“I have some theories, but nothing real yet. But her suspicions on Red Hood’s plan are on point, and she convinced a whole room full of cops not to go after your ass.” Grayson continued as he raised his head to meet Todd’s eyes, the dangerous smile fully morphing into a promise of a challenge and something darker.

Damian got the feeling something else was going down between the two as they looked in each other’s eyes, but he wasn’t exactly keen on discovering what.

“You’ll follow her. She’s dangerous.”

And everyone jumped out of their skin, Damian trying to hide his surprise by coughing in the arm that he had _on purpose_ raised to obviously shield his brothers from his germs and absolutely not because he had a throwing star in his fingers in seconds. Todd’s reaction was to just go down a few shades of white and Grayson had to stop himself from slipping down the stairs.

Everybody remembered that Bruce Wayne was a troll in disguise, ready to use that growly voice to make you question your existence in this crazy mess or just surprise you at the worst moment with…warrying results depending on the nature of the surprise.

Bruce looked incredibly smug, or as smug as he could with the wave of exhaustion coming out of him.

“JEsssus, Bruce! You’re even worse than your kid!” Todd looked like he wanted to punch something, in order to just reaffirm his status of _am not the scaredy cat of the family, look, I can fight ghosts._

“Which one?”

That had the merit of shutting Todd up for more than a few seconds.

“Dick, you’re on surveillance duty. She made contact with you as a cop, you’ll see her as a cop. Try to get close to her to see if she’s up to something. She’ll suspect you, so be prepared.” Bruce continued before he turned to Damian, and Damian had an inkling it wasn’t something he was going to like.

“Damian…”

“I will _not_ use my friendship with Merounem’s kin to get intel, Father. I refuse.”

A pregnant pause made itself known, as Damian defied his father’s gaze, refusing to give up any ground. A year ago, he would’ve done it, no questions. He would still do it with his super friends, because those dumbasses needed someone to get their asses out of the fire somewhere around yesterday, and intel on them was also a way to prevent any kind of _destroying of world from the inside, Terra if you catch my drift._ Yes, it was very Drake-like to keep tabs on his friends, but between broken trust and dead bodies, there was a line Damian crossed without guilt.

But Isaac was different. Isaac had nothing to do with such a business. He was a meta, yes, but had no training in fighting techniques, and most importantly, he was Damian’s link to the ‘normal world’. A world where death threats were inconsequential, where Damian could smile without worrying that Mother would come for his skin because he was feeling something else than bloodlust and manipulation. Somewhere where he could explore a part of himself that had been awoken with Jon, and that he wanted to expand.

So yes, Isaac’s behaviour this morning was concerning, but Damian was sure it had nothing to do with Eli and everything to do with his powers. And until proven otherwise, he would not use the same method as he did with his other friends. Because Isaac was no hero.

“Then I won’t ask you to. But if you hear anything of relevance, should it be Isaac’s sister leaving folders in the open or a conversation, then you report back to me. Understood, Robin?” Father was long gone, leaving only Batman judging his sideki- pardon, _partner-_. But Damian was thankful, because it was _way_ more than Talia would have allowed.

“Thank you, Father.” He smiled, and he could hear as Grayson gasped in surprise. Well…he had taught Isaac how to redirect wires, and Isaac had taught him to smile naturally, so win-win, no?

With that in mind, he left the hallway to go back in the kitchen and closed the door, leaving a Batfamily equally pleased and concerned.

“Ya realise that he’s gonna fall high when the Merounem’s squirt is goin’ ta be targeted, right?” Jason spoke the moment the Demon squirt was out of ear shot.

“Yes, but as Dick did, or as you did, he needs to realise that your actions always have consequences and that you’re not the world’s navel. _Your actions reflect on others.”_

“Shit, Bruce. Where did you get so mature and gloomy?”

“Nanda Parbat, where else?”

“And yar sense ‘f humour?”

“I suck a clown every morning.”

Dick couldn’t help a snort at the deadpan answer and saluted the man who was sporting a smile _for the second time today, Alleluia._ “Jason, pick your jaw up the floor, please.” In a snap of fingers, Bruce became Dad, “You look horrible by the way, everything alright?”

Jason was having whiplash. “I’m fine, just slept in a weird position…”

“Dick. Blind woman message.”

“Cassandra, please. Like everybody in this house, _let the Chandelier be.”_ Bruce sighed with the exhaustion of a father. Cassandra only shrugged at him with a small smile, and turned to Dick whose forehead was crinkled in worry. Jason was leaning over his shoulder, a smile slowly but surely spreading out.

“Lookit that, Dickie’s got a date. Better look good then.”

“She’s blind.”

“Means you can wear socks in Birkenstocks, she’ll be thankful for not being able to see _that horror.”_

* * *

Eli leaned on the railing, enjoying the cold wind. Better get over it, she wanted to be swinging.

 _Tonight, she was on a hunt_.

Tapping her cane lightly, she hummed in the night, the air letting her know the sun wasn’t around anymore. Her suit was warm against her chest, and the three covers around her were something she would regret taking off afterwards. She had shared a hug between Red Hood and someone else, someone she thought she might know, but had changed the moment she had taken all possession of her bearings.

He had changed from a light grey in wavelength to a dark blue the moment she started answering back, descending in a mind-set where fear transformed in anger and every movement was planned.

What that meant, she didn’t know, but it had replenished her almost to her full capacities and she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. _For now._

Now she had a proposition to make to a cop who was most likely in bed with the Batfamily, in a metaphorical way. If he could just come to the meeting point a little faster, she wouldn’t have to feel her fingers go numb, and they all could go their merry way to live happily ever after. 

“You’re early.” The deep voice- _wrong tone, wrong accent, why, why, why…-_ spoke and she turned to the sound. He came on her left, joining her on the railing. She just hummed, rolling her cane in her palm, taking in his scent. The fact that more than one scent lingered on him, the smell of _home, safe_ and surprisingly _cookies_.

For a few minutes, they basked in the silence, letting the wind in leaves and the cripples on the water be their music.

“I have a question.” Came later, her cane taken by a hand and another one looping hers on an arm. They started walking, Eli letting him lead the way, checking their surroundings for any danger. “Did you ask me on a date or is it work only?”

“A bit of both, I think.” There it was, the leap of faith. If Officer Grayson wasn’t working with them, then she had no other plan to reach Red Hood. “What do you like to do in your free time?” she asked instead of going straight for the kill.

“Tumbling.” His heartbeat stayed steady, no excessive sweating, no increased hormones in the blood. It wasn’t a lie. “What do you do in your free time?” He shot back.

“I mostly sleep. Or I dance.” He had offered truth; she would offer truth in return.

“On what kind of song?”

 _Too damn close._ “I’m thinking about a choreography on Fire on Fire, from Sam Smith. The beat is awesome, and the song so languorous you want to give yourself a hug.”

A bit of shuffle, and the same song started, Grayson putting his phone between them to hear it without disturbing other walkers.

“ _To give yourself a hug?_ I think someone would make love on that song, no?” He was laughing, way more relaxed then during work, but tense in ways she hoped weren’t negative. “But _how_ do you dance?”

She just laughed, and let her head lay on his shoulder. “Badly. I dance, but I have no idea of what is looks like. So, badly.” Snorting, a memory made its way on the forefront of her brain. “I danced high heels once. I lost a bet with some colleagues, and had to do the chicken dance on a table.”

“Proof or it never happened.”

“You’re a detective, îngeras.” She heard him gasp at the nickname, but couldn’t find it in her to take it back. She was not going to call him Dick and îngeras seemed appropriate for him. “Find the blackmail material yourself.” But Eli took out her phone, and unlocked it with her voice. “Siri, find the folder called _PowerPoint for your marriage.”_

Grayson laughed and Eli could just remember the phrase “femme qui rit, à moitié dans ton lit». Which she applied in that situation too. “There,” she continued and handed him her phone, “have a laugh, Isaac took the video.”

What followed was a cacophony of laughter, the clicks of heels like an elephant was trying to wake the whole world up until a definite _crack_ and her old self crashing down the table to land in a mess of papers and hysteric laughs. Grayson was astonished and she could hear his smile the moment he began to speak again.

“You always do crazy things at work?”

“Have you seen me work? Isaac would say I’m a drama queen, I prefer to say that I enjoy every part of life, even the theatrical part.” She held her hand up, and after several seconds, her phone was given back.

_Yes, put a tracker on my shit, motherfucker._

“Now come on, I heard there was a churros stand around somewhere in the park, and I’m counting on you to spot it.”

“You devil, you.” She got playfully nudged with a hip bump and could only laugh as Grayson continued to rant. “You didn’t ask me out to enjoy the night air or my company, but to act as your GPS. I am shell shocked.”

“Poor îngeras”, she cooed, rubbing her head against his shoulder in mock pity. And damn she didn’t remember that he was that tall, but she was happy for the second hand experience.

“So, how do you settle in so far?”

“Isaac found activities outside of school and he’s really taking the kick out of it. He’s drawing again, which is great.” Eli smiled sadly before her whole face lit up, the smile going onward at the speed of light. Dick was certain her eyes went wide behind those smoked glasses. “He even made a friend!”

“Really?!”, He didn’t need to fake his tone, the joy and pride of a big brother seeing his siblings socialize colouring his voice.

“Yeah! The kid’s to damn serious, but Isaac’s nothing but stubborn. I kinda want to sit down with the kid to talk, but I already know he’s dangerous, so I can get behind that.” She explained, no worry in her voice, just pride at the growth of her charge.

“Dangerous?” That was concerning. Because if a civilian could sense that Damian had nothing in common with a Teletubby, then the kid should really work on his social skills. Eli only snuggled closer when wind hit them front.

“Yeah, like you are.” Got murmured so low Dick almost thought he was hallucinating.

The music coming from the churros stand came to their ears and Eli perked up at the sound, her face relaying a bit at the promise of fat and sugar.

“Uhmm, smells good.”

 _Okay no, not sound then._ Dick sniffed the air to get a whiff, but nothing touched his nose. He angled their course towards the stand, and Eli followed, not a whisper of protest as she was completely lost in the smell of a sugar trip.

Their churros bought, they proceeded to eat them in a comfortable silence. Grayson was warm against her side, and Eli was really tempted to forget everything going on and lose herself into Grayson’s presence. Forget the ‘job’ part of this date, forget that she had a mission and not just a date with someone who was interesting, let her buddle up in Grayson's voice. The spider wanted nothing more than just drag the detective down to sit and get to know him more. He was interesting, funny and damn intelligent. And could clearly keep up with vigilantism if her theories were correct. 

Unbeknownst to her, Dick had the same dilemma. He was on a mission. He _was_ the mission, since he was twelve-year-old. But damn would it kill anyone if he let the mask go for just a night? Unfortunately, he knew that in his case, the hyperbola was a reality. So mission it was, before the person. Even though now that he could see Eli’s smile, he was glad to be a vigilante, because he would be able to play with her at his full potential.

“Sooo, why did you ask me out if it’s not for my dazzling good looks and awesome physique?” he kept his tone joking, and saw Eli’s smile go from _alert_ to _brain power at maximum_. “You’re here to talk about the Batfamily.”

It wasn’t a question and Eli didn’t contradict.

The atmosphere changed with just that phrase. _Playtime’s over, take out the big guns_. Another game started, one that could bring a vigilante at the top.

Eli let go of his arm and stood in front of him for several seconds, head tilted to the side as if she was listening to something. She must’ve found what she was searching for, because her hands went up, up, _up_ , -yes, she did look a bit thrown off by the height- to grasp behind his neck. But well, letting her weight on him would mean not touching the ground and Dick was still confused on what she was doing. But she didn’t let that deter her and hung on him like a rag doll.

He couldn’t help it. He snorted and Jason snorted too. She had even a small smile, knowing how ridiculous she was.

Eli changed tactics, deciding that hanging like a flag to a poll like Grayson, without her feet touching Mother Earth was not a great way to be taken seriously. She let go of him and took several steps back and seemed to assess the situation.

Then she launched herself on him.

Dick didn’t get the time to make a comment before the gremlin’s legs looped around his ribs and she was suddenly on him, her smile so white up close. Her cane clattered on the side as he struggled with his immediate instinct to yeet her in the atmosphere.

( _“Look Mommy! Like when Daddy came back home. You hugged him like that too!”_

_“Anna!!”)_

In the end, he let his hands rest under the sensitive skin of her knees, a test of her trust in him. Her smile faltered for a second maybe, but she clicked her tongue at him and smiled even wider. 

Eli was in his face, and Dick was torn between throwing her away or kissing her. Just to wipe that smirk of her face. “Mind telling me what you’re doing?” He calmly enunciated, with Jason snickering in the earpiece, that bastard.

She didn’t answer verbally this time, her hands shot out to grab his jaw and held it as she leaned down to breath against his ear.

“Merounem! This is sexual harassment!”

She straightened and came back into his visual field, the most deadpan look on her face. “You’re only seeing this as sexual ‘cause you’re weird.” 

Jason chose this moment to let a snort, the warning bells before a belly laugh that would absolutely destroy Dick’s eardrums if he let it out. Eli zeroed on the sound like a mosquito on blood and Dick felt sweat run down his spine as she leaned down again, the other ear this time.

“ _Hello, Hood_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, there's chapter 8!!!  
> So, "femme qui rit à moitié dans ton lit" means "woman who laughs at your jokes is already half in your bed" Yes, Eli sees Dick has the woman in this metaphor. Fight me.
> 
> She also calls him "îngeras" , which, if I remember correctly means "Angel" in Romani. Yes, I'm a basic bitch but this'll have a purpose later. 
> 
> Isaac is fucking oblivious and doesn't give a shit about the Batfamily, and Eli doesn't ask the good question to get the full pictures. 
> 
> THis one was backing in the oven for a long period of time because of...life outside of it. Now that I'm back, chapter 9 is at the ready, and you can bet your ass you have no idea where this is going, lol. Even myself sometimes I don't know.  
> Comment if you liked the chapter and the caracters developpment !!!  
> And daaaang, up to 87k nd they're still not even together! Slow burn, ya'll, slow burn.  
> But if yo ass want smut you just go check my other story or Wintersnight cuz that woman has some fucking ideas and they're bendy.  
> (And honestly, I think at one point, a piece of furniture very similar to what's described in *cough* Doctor Tim *cough* will come in handy.
> 
> Spider. Webs. BDSM. You do the math, honey.
> 
> Have a good day and nice skin!!!


End file.
